Meet Me by the Water
by underneaththetree
Summary: “I will let you go as soon as you enlighten me as to whose death you were fortunate enough to see.” “Fortunate?” she laughed a bit hysterically, “Fortunate, Riddle? Why would seeing another’s death be fortunate?” TRHG
1. Doubt

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS STORY: The attraction between Ron and Hermione never existed. They are, as they will be throughout this story, just friends.

Hermione stood with her back against the door of the room of requirement, holding it shut. She closed her eyes and immediately opened them again as images of warfare played out across her vision. Taking rationalizing breaths, she looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing a few feet in front of her, a cold look on his face. Immaculately dressed as always in black slacks and matching dress shoes, an almost see-through white button-up shirt, slytherin robes, and of course, his head boy badge, he brushed his pale blond hair away from his eyes.

After sharing a common room with him during her seventh year, she has grown accustomed to reading the thoughts hidden behind his cool demeanor. She noticed the bags under his eyes, much like her own, and could feel weariness emanating from his sigh.

"Granger?" he questioned. He eyed her up and down, noticing her less than perfect posture. She looked as if she was going to slide down the door and crumple up.

She had grown up in the past year. Her hair remained curly, but now fell in smooth ringlets. She looked a bit older, with more curves among other things than in her younger years, but the aura of youthful innocence remained, as did her thirst for intellect.

When she didn't answer, he walked up to her and lifted her chin so that she found herself staring into his gray, almost black, eyes. "Pull yourself together, Hermione. It's not over yet," he told her in an authoritative tone.

"Draco," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against him, "What if it doesn't work? I'm so scared I'll ruin everything."

"You're all we've got at this point, Granger. Now is not the time for fear or doubts. I need you to find the courage to walk out that door knowing fully well the bloody mess that lies out there. You need to be prepared. Immobilization won't do us any good. Now, hold my hand and take a deep breath," Draco advised and instructed.

She placed her hand in his and he gave it an encouraging squeeze. He pulled the door open and they walked out together, knowing too well that if she faltered, all hope would be lost.

Reviews & ideas would be appreciated! Chapters will get longer after the third…the first three simply serve to set up the story.


	2. War

FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS STORY: Dumbledore is not dead in the future, because Hermione brought him back alive by using her time turner. However, the prospect of him dying in a mere few seconds of their return if their task should fail exists.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

Spells whizzed past Draco and Hermione as they ran out to the grounds. The light side paid no heed to the two of them, already briefed on the plan. As they skidded past Dumbledore at the entrance of the building, he pulled hermione to his side and shoved a lemon drop into her hand.

" Do not be surprised if a lemon drop appears every so often during your trip, Ms. Granger," he hinted, "know that I will always be watching over you."

He then pulled her into a hug. "Remember Ms. Granger, love conquers all. Do not be afraid of it if it happens to cross your path," he hinted with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Hermione stared into his honest face, pained at the fact that mere seconds ago Harry had witnessed his death before she had used her time turner to bring him back to life.

Suddenly, she felt Draco grabbing her hand and pulling her out the front door. They rushed past more members, both of the light and dark side. She caught Zabini advancing towards her, but he was stopped by a warning glance from Draco.

"I am taking her to our Lord," Draco informed him with confidence, playing his part well like a true Malfoy. He then proceeded to snarling at Hermione as she feigned resisting him as he dragged her away with a contemptuous look on his face.

They approached the tree by the great lake, whose waters were eerily calm and dark. Running to the tree's trunk, they passed an invisible shield created by Dumbledore to hide his army, which now consisted of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Luna, Neville, Parvati, and Ginny.

The group arranged themselves in a close knit circle, as Hermione muttered a spell elongating the string on her time turner and threw it around them all. She turned the time turner according to the directions Dumbledore had given her, praying that it would work. Everyone waited in anticipation of the feeling of zero gravity, the feeling that they were going back in time, but it never came.

They looked around at each other, faces falling. Draco covered his face with his hands and Neville let out a whimper. Parvati played with her hair, a nervous habit. Ron made to break the string and run towards the castle to fight, exasperated as he felt all hope draining away. He was stopped by Ginny, who pulled him back to her side and clung to him. Harry shut his eyes and turned to face the sky, as if asking if there really was a God out there.

"The winds are starting to circle us," Luna whispered knowingly. The group, except Neville, stared at her as if they couldn't believe she would resort to her unusual remarks in a desperate situation such as this which called for clarity of mind, something which Parvati was sure Luna didn't possess. Before they could cry out against her odd observation, they too felt the winds circling, and Neville pulled them all together as they felt themselves dropping into nothingness, hands entwined and faces bowed.

Review please. I would love to hear your ideas!


	3. 1944

1944

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

The wind unfurled around them, tingling their cheeks and ruffling their hair. They landed in a tangled mess near the tree that they had previously been under. At first glance, it appeared the same, the bark still a dark, almost black, shade, which contrasted nicely with the light green leaves hanging from its many branches, creating a large shady, almost protective and assuring, circle around its trunk. However, upon another glance, its subtle differences were clear. The tree appeared a bit younger, with less gnarled roots.

The group made their way to the edge of the circle, reluctant to step outside of it. They stared out at the vast navy blue waters of the great lake, sparkling and rippling in the rosy light of the setting September sun. Standing in a line, DM HG RW HP GW NL LL and PP, each closed their eyes, reached out and grabbed onto each other's hands, took a breath, and began making their way towards the castle.

They savored the silence that hung in the air around them, so different from the sounds of death that they had left behind. In the air between them hung an understanding of the task that they had come here to establish, to stop the dark lord and his death eaters from gaining prominence.

As they approached the castle's entrance, the sound of students shuffling out of the great hall could be heard. They walked up to the doors of the school, open as if they were expected. Letting go of each other's hands, they closed the space at their sides by drawing closer, with Harry at their center.

Once inside, they were stopped by Dumbledore, who happened to be conveniently stepping out of the great hall at that moment. His eyes twinkled as he approached them.

Harry stepped in front of the group, who watched warily from behind him, hoping that he did not slip up and mess with Dumbledore's memory by mistake.

"Sir, may we speak to you in your office?" Harry questioned.

"I do not have an office," Dumbledore spoke, "but you are welcome to join me in my classroom. Right this way," he lead.

The group followed behind him, earning stares from students on their way to their afternoon classes.

Upon reaching Dumbledore's transfiguration classroom, they were surprised by the clutter of various objects, so different from the organization of Professor McGonnagall's classroom back in their time. Dumbledore casually perched on his desk, waving his hand and transfiguring the desks at the front of the room into comfortable lemon yellow sofas for the group. Forgetting that they were in a different time, they lost themselves in Dumbledore's traditional hospitality and sat themselves down in the order that they had walked in.

Hermione half expected Dumbledore to offer them lemon drops. Nostalgic, she looked down as tears threatened to fall. Her hands lay shaking in her lap.

Draco, ever the perceptive one, grabbed her right hand and held it loosely at their side, away from the views of the others. Before she had the chance to give Draco a thankful smile, a lemon drop appeared in her mouth. She almost spit it out, but then remembered the words of Dumbledore before they had left.

" Do not be surprised if a lemon drop appears every so often during your trip, Ms. Granger," he hinted, "know that I will always be watching over you."

She smiled to herself, and finally looked up at Dumbledore, giving him her attention.

"May I ask your names and your purpose for coming to Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" questioned Dumbledore kindly.

"Before we answer Sir, may we know the year," Ron asked, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer.

An imperceptible hint of astonishment flashed through Dumbledore's eyes, but was gone in the next instant, replaced with disbelief and a practical mindset.

"What he's trying to say, Professor, is do we look alright? Do our clothes fit in with the times?" Parvati queried, "my mother always said that the proper clothes are necessary to advance in any situation.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Parvati's words.

"It is 1944," Dumbledore finally spoke, "Your clothes are not those of the time, but I am sure that we can fix that matter as soon as I understand your situation."

"We realize this may be hard to believe, Sir," Hermione ventured to say, "but we are from the future. We were given a task by your future self and have come to the past to complete it."

"Say no more," Dumbledore hurriedly cautioned, "unless my future self has advised you to tell me. Informing me of more than is necessary may mess with my memory, and in turn, with time. Now, what is it that I may do to aid you in completing your task?"

"Well, Sir, in case you have not noticed, we are without food, proper clothing, shelter, and of course, mirrors," Draco quickly remarked.

Upon receiving an evil stare from Harry, he went on to point at him and say to Dumbledore, "and as we can all clearly see from the state of things, my friend over there needs a mirror to help him untangle that mess he calls hair." Lavender nodded in agreement.

Harry consciously ran his hands through his hair, unknowingly ruffling it all the more, and Draco received an elbowing from Hermione. He grinned back sheepishly.

"What he's trying to say, professor, is that we would appreciate it if you would allow us to stay here at Hogwarts and attend classes like regular students," Hermione rephrased.

"It would be my pleasure. What were your names again?"

"Draconius McCallister, Hermione Glarette, Ronaldo Windsor, Harry Preston, Ginevra Windsor, Neville Leavenworth, Luna Lille, and Parvati Paisle," Hermione replied quickly, remembering that Dumbledore had warned against revealing their last names in case they ran into their ancestors. The group, recognizing her motives, remained quiet and unperturbed.

"Well, it is nice to meet all of you. I will briefly speak to Headmaster Dippet about having you eight sorted during dinner. There is some time until then. I have no more classes to teach in the afternoon and will leave you to occupy yourself with plans and the like while I stroll the grounds outside. Before I leave, I will place a silencing spell and a lock on the door so that only you eight and I may enter and go until then. However, do try to remain inside and come up with a story to explain why you eight are here so that the students and staff alike do not become suspicious. When you go to your common rooms tonight, you will find all needed belongings at the foot of your beds. I leave you to your own devices until then. I will return with a change of clothes twenty minutes before dinner, " Dumbledore advised and assured before leaving the classroom.

"Bow down to me, " Ron exclaimed after the professor had left, "Hermione has just dubbed me royalty. Windsor, she says…"

Reviews updates. hint hint! Ideas of what you would like to read would be appreciated more than praise, though I don't object to that either. & remember, this will be mostly TRHG so ideas about that specifically would be nice.

Next chapter: sorting, dinner, and intro to tom (& anything else you guys can think of…)


	4. Story

"If anyone's royalty Weasley, it's me, "Draco asserted.

"Alright guys, we should probably come up with a plausible story before Dumbledore gets back instead of arguing over our genetic bloodlines," Harry suggested, eager to get right down to the bottom of things.

Hermione bit her lip to distract herself from her thoughts. Harry's mention of bloodlines bought back the familiar feeling of terror she had felt for the lives of those who were not fortunate enough to be pure-blooded back home, those like herself.

"I think that we should say that we're pro-Quidditch players from America who have decided to take up residence here, because we got sick of giving out restraining orders to all of our adoring fans back home," suggested Ron with a serious look on his face.

"Well since you never let the quaffle in Ron, I don't think that your story has much accuracy to it," Luna spoke truthfully, unknowingly insulting Ron, who in turn glared at her. What was it to him if Loony Luna Lovegood felt that he was not an adequate quidditch player? No one ever saw her attempt to play the game. He was about to make his point when Parvati interrupted.

"We should tell them that we're models from Prague who have decided to live our lives uncover so that we may escape the madness associated with the runway life," Parvati spoke, "and then maybe they won't think our clothes weird and we won't have to resort to wearing the out-of-date clothing of this century."

"Tom Riddle practically owns the school at this point. It's his seventh year. If we appear out of the ordinary, he will begin to suspect us. If that happens, I don't know what we will do. He's already got his death eaters gathered, and he has already murdered Moaning Myrtle, proving himself capable of the death curse at this point. His death eaters will serve as his spies, and Riddle, with that brain of his, will put the clues together and find out the truth. Eventually, he might murder us all if he fails to find a use for us. If that happens, our mission will have failed and who knows what will happen in the future with Riddle's memory altered," Harry point out. "We cannot risk not fitting in."

"If I remember clearly, Potter, it was Weaslette who was made vulnerable by her need to fit in. You didn't see the rest of us considering a diary a friend. We're not the ones who are going to have trouble adapting. It's going to be your little girly-friend, if not clumsy Neville, who ruins this one for us," Draco pointed out.

Ginny glared back at Draco, but was reassured when Harry put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I'm here," he whispered in her ear so that only she could hear. She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes. They were no longer going out, if you could call what used to be between them a relationship even though it was so short-lived. However, there would always be a connection between Harry and her. He was the one that she had crushed on in her first few years at Hogwarts, and he was the one who had saved her from the Chamber of Secrets and her certain death. They weren't family, yet they were.

Harry turned to Draco, who raised his hands up in mock apology. "Apologize, Malfoy," he ground out.

Draco was about to object, but after catching a pleading look from Hermione, he forced himself to utter the words, "Weaslette, no one plays the damsel in distress act better then you. My apologies for criticizing your award-winning performance." He sat back with a smug look on his face, crossing his arms.

Before Harry could pick a fight with him, Luna, sensing the tension in the room, suggested in a sing-song voice, "we could say that we are mermen and mermaids who grew legs like in that muggle movie. My dad once said that it is the reason why we consume so much water as humans everyday, because our ancestors lived under water…"

Ginny interrupted her, kindly saving her from embarrassment, with "we could tell them that we lost our families and transferred here." The group became dead silent at her words.

"That's exactly why we're all here," spoke Hermione, "because Harry and I lost our parents, Draco's dad is in Azkaban, Luna's dad is missing, Neville's parents are suffering, Parvati's parents' fashion house was ransacked by death eaters, and we don't know what will happen to the Weasleys' and everyone else and their families if we don't succeed."

Parvati attempted to lighten up the atmosphere. "I still think that we should say that we are runway models so that we can still wear our usual clothes," she asserted.

"Dear gods woman, think of something besides clothing," Draco said exasperatedly.

"Coming from you that's absolutely laughable," Parvati talked back, sticking out her tongue in a five-year-old like gesture.

"Why don't we just tell them that we're here on a top secret government mission to save the world," Draco said sarcastically, "at least then we would be telling the semi-truth no matter how ridiculous it sounds."

"Dumbledore said that the truth can hurt our cause more than lies," Hermione claimed wisely, "the less that everyone knows about us, the better."

"Why don't we tell them what Ginny came up with, " Neville quietly put forth, "it's close to the truth so we won't have to worry about sounding believable, and people will leave is alone if they think that we are recuperating from loss."

Put into perspective, especially with everyone else's outlandish ideas, this suggestion seemed best even though it caused them grief to even think about it.

"At least we won't have to worry about forgetting where we came from and why we're here every time we tell someone our circumstances," Neville added.

The group came to an agreement on this particular plan, and just when they did, Dumbledore walked in, and they explained.

"Plausible story," Dumbledore praised, "dinner is beginning in twenty minutes. I've brought back clothing for all of you." He then transfigured eight different cubicles with their names on them. "If you walk inside the one labeled for you, you will find a bathroom and flattering clothing in the right sizes. The cubicle will provide privacy so you can all get ready as a group and be on time. Once you are done, walk out of my office and to the great hall. You will see several students heading in the same direction and should be able to get there easily. I now have to go and get the sorting hat ready." He left the room once again and the group began to prepare themselves.

NOTE: sorting and tom are going to have to wait until next chapter….sorry. Tomorrow is my last full day of senior year, and I need my beauty sleep. Remember to review, loves!


	5. Preparing

The boys cubicles were on one side and the girls on the other, the entrance of each side facing the entrance of the other.

Harry, Draco, Ron, and Neville made their way into their respective cubicles and showered. On a shelf, they each found black pants and matching dressing shoes and white button down shirts, which they left untucked.

The girls also entered their cubicles and showered. They were each provided with knee length skirts, button down shirts meant to be tucked in, pearl earrings, a hair ribbon, and small heels with a single strap meant to hold their feet in place.

Hermione found a dark brown skirt with a pink shirt, shoes, ribbon and earrings.

Ginny found an off-white skirt with a dark green shirt, shoes, ribbon and earrings.

Parvati found a black skirt with a crimson shirt, shoes, ribbon, and earrings.

Luna found a gray shirt with a lavender shirt shoes, ribbon and earrings.

They each put on a bit of powder, liner, mascara, and eye shadow to match their respective shirts and clear gloss on their lips. If they were going to put their lives in danger by coming back to the past (not that their lives hadn't already been in peril), they were going to do it in style.

The girls and guys walked out at the same time. As soon as one side saw the other, it halted in its tracks. The girls were surprised that they boys had actually cleaned themselves up. As for the guys, they could do nothing but stare. Were these really the girls that they had grown up with?

"Hermione, you look like a rose growing in the dirt," Rom spoke proudly, attempting poetry.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Hermione a small smile. "Thank you, Ron," she replied, trying not to laugh.

"Weasley, make use of your eyes and turn to your side. No one looks as good as I do," Draco held, gaining his arrogant edge back.

Ron ignored him, turning to Ginny. At first, he looked right past her, not seeing anything different. Then, a second later, he turned back, and his eyes bulged out of his head as he roared, "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you WILL button up every last button on that blouse!"

She had left two buttons unbuttoned, and buttoned up just one more to please Ron. She left one unbuttoned, turning to Neville and smiling shyly.

Neville, who had been eyeing her, quickly turned his face to the ground, going red about the ears. "You look nice, Ginny," he muttered, not sure if she had heard or not.

One person, however, had definitely heard. "Stay away from my baby sister, Longbottom," Ron yelled, his face going read and contorting with rage.

"Ron, You're not my keeper so…," Ginny began.

"WE HAVEN'T TRAVELED BACK IN TIME SO THAT YOU TWO COULD HAVE A GO AT EACH OTHER," Hermione yelled, frustrated that such a little thing could get the group of course. At this rate, they were never going to accomplish what they had risked time to do.

Ron looked down, somewhat appeased, while Ginny gave her a grateful smile, glad to have her brother off her back.

'We should head down to the great hall," Ron mumbled, his stomach rumbling.

The group made their way out of the door in couples: Harry with Ginny, Hermione with Draco, Luna with Neville, and Ron with Parvati.

"Allow me to escort you properly to the great hall, my lady," Ron said in a pseudo-charming manner, "as I was unable to do at the yule ball."

Parvati stood at this side and they linked arms, walking out of Dumbledore's office together.

They began making their way to the great hall, knowing where they were going from the future. However, once Hermione became aware of how suspicious this would look, she poked Harry and whispered her trepidations to him.

Harry slowed down and looked around as if confused as to where he was going. He spotted a lonely boy walking past them and approached him.

"Can you point the way to the great hall," Harry asked.

"Of course, its straight ahead to your right. I'm going there myself. You may follow if you like. My name's Rubeus Hagrid, by the way," he introduced.

Harry and the others were surprised to say the least, but they managed to cover up their shock. This Hagrid looked nothing like the one in the future. Though he still appeared a giant in height, he was lanky as opposed to weighty, and his hair fell straight and smooth as opposed to curly and frizzy.

"Please lead the way and thank you for your help," Parvati replied with a smile, ever the mannered one.

They walked up to the doors leading to the great hall and were stopped in their tracks by the sight of a Draco-like blond threatening a boy to write his herbology essay for him unless he wanted to see his pet frog dead.

"I'll write it for you after dinner and drop it off by the painting of Sir Lancelot tomorrow morning," the boy spoke fearfully, "just give me back my frog, Malfoy"

Malfoy, the elder, purposely held the frog away from arms length and let him go near the entrance of the school, watching as it hopped out the doors and into the dark grounds, smirking as the other boy chased after it.

"Don't forget to come back in time for dinner, Longbottom," Malfoy yelled after him in a satisfied voice, knowing that he would never catch the frog in time and would be up half the night writing his essay instead of his own.

He sauntered into the great hall and made his way to the slytherin table.

"It seems as though the habit of losing one's pet frogs is ancestral," Draco spoke, smirking.

"It seems as though the habit of being an outright git is ancestral, also" Neville spoke, glaring. Ginny smiled back at him. She had always known that he had a backbone.

Seeing their ancestors had been strange for both boys, and they were too astonished to do more than fight with words.

"Do not acknowledge that you know who they are until you have properly introduced yourselves as if meeting a stranger," Hermione warned, "lest you want to mess with time."

"Alright Granger, enough with those all-knowing comments of yours. Let's go get sorted so I can eat," Draco spoke in irritation, running his hands through this hair.

They filed into the great hall, and suddenly, all voices silenced themselves. The only thing that could be heard was the clicks of the girls' heels on the hard, stone floor.

"I would like to introduce a group of transfer students that have come to join us here at Hogwarts," Dippet announced, standing up from his seat.

Dumbledore brought out the sorting hat and stool and placed them front row center.

"Please come up one by one to get sorted into your houses," Dippet encouraged.

NOTE: physics final tomorrow so the actual sorting and feast, as well as Tom and Hermione's encounter, will have to wait. Review please and let me know your ideas. I will update when I get 5 reviews (with ideas and thoughts please) and hopefully that will be by tomorrow…or maybe by tonight. Thanks for reading!


	6. Sorting

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

Draco walked up to the sorting hat first, head held high in a superior manner. He acted as if he owned the place, and in his time, he practically did. He sat down on the rickety stool, placing the sorting hat on his head.

"A slytherin from the future, huh? Although you have changed sides in the war, your arrogance and sense of superiority remain undiminished. Head boy in your year though you may be in the future, your cunning outshines your intelligence by far," the hat spoke inside Draco's head.

"SLYTHERIN!," it yelled out.

"_Do not let your jealousy get in the way of how things are suppose to turn out, Mr. Malfoy. Do not fear being left behind for you will always remain near to the heart," _the heat assured.

The claps from the slytherin table were deafening as Draco made his way over and took a seat.

Hermione stepped over to the hat to be sorted next.

"_Your intelligence is your strongest trait. Your natural curiosity and profuse common sense make you more than just book smart. Though you may be brave when it comes to helping your friends, the house for you is…"_

"RAVENCLAW!," the hat bellowed.

"_Good luck with your task, Ms. Granger. You will play the most important role. Do not neglect either your heart or your head," _the hat rushed to advise before she handed it to Ron, making her way to the Ravenclaw table amidst the cheering.

"_Another Weasley? Well, I know exactly where to place you…"_

"GRYFFINDOR," the hat roared.

"_Do not be too protective of your younger sibling, Mr. Weasley. She will only distance herself from you if you continue to do so. Take this opportunity at a new start to mature when it comes to the opposite sex," _the hat recommend.

Ron gave the hat to Harry and made his way to the Gryffindor table, recognizing the truth in the hat's words. He tended to make a fool of himself in front of the girls. He promised himself that he would take the chance to gain some experience dealing with "the other species."

"_Although you are loyal to your friends and family and brave to the point of rash decisions, your heritage influences you more than you may ever know."_

"SLYTHERIN," the hat cried.

"_You have experienced the weight of the world on your shoulders in the future and know how it feels to be faced with a daunting task. Relax in this time, because it will not be up to you to save the world. However, remember to be there for your friends. They still look up to you as a leader," _The hat counseled.

Harry placed the hat in one of Ginny's hands and gave the other a reassuring squeeze. He then made his way to the slytherin table and sat next to Draco, flashing him a toothy grin.

"_Another Weasley…similar in bravery, but different from all of the rest in your experiences, the need for a sense of belonging and a craving for attention."_

"SLYTHERIN," the hat decided.

"_Do not judge others on biased scales, Ms. Weasley. You will find yourself most undeserving and alone if you do so," _the hat informed.

Ginny gave the hat to Neville, who took it with a shaking hand, and placed it on his head.

"_Though many may think you clumsy, you in fact are not. It takes skill, concentration, and of course, love, to be gifted in herbology as you are. More caring than most others who have sat on this very stool and determined to not allowing life events to hinder you, you are a match for…"_

"HUFFLEPUFF," the hat announced.

"_Your compassion is your strongest weapon. Do not forget that, Mr. Longbottom, and share it with the world," _the hat advised.

Neville placed the hat on Luna's head in a friendly manner.

"_Your ideas differ from the norm, but you are not afraid to express them. Gifted in many subjects, care of magical creatures especially. Kind to others, yet the subject of many jokes."_

"HUFFLEPUFF," the hat chose.

"_Do not give in to the pressures of society. Opposing opinions are those to be most treasured, for those are the origins of truth and understanding," _the hat spoke mystically.

Parvati snatched the hat from Luna's hand and adjusted it on her head.

"_You believe in divination and are quite the materialistic one. Always up for a bit of fun, yet you will put all your ideals to the side when a friend is in need."_

"GRYFFINDOR," the hat declared.

"_Your ways with fashion have more uses than just one,"_ the hat revealed without further explanation.

Parvati made her way to the Gryffindor table, where Ron stood and pulled out her chair for her in a gentlemanly manner.

"Now that the sorting has concluded, let us begin the feast," Dippet proclaimed, and a variety of dishes covered the tables.

Ron quickly served himself a heap of stuffed shells, while Parvati went for a small serving of the more elegant angel hair pasta.

"Who knew that Harry and Ginny weren't all Gryffindor?" Parvati pondered aloud to Ron.

"Well, Harry's a parseltongue. It doesn't take a lot of brainpower to figure that one out. As for Ginny, it was probably because of her relationship with both Tom and Harry, each of which is associated with Slytherin.

At the Hufflepuff table, Luna and Neville were both having minestrone soup and breadsticks and engaged in a conversation about mandrakes.

"If you can ignore they're screeching, they're like little babies," Neville explained, "they're actually quite cute."

"My father says that we evolved from them," Luna stated.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Neville answered, "except now that I think about it, McGonagall's shrieking resembles the sound of the mandrakes quite closely." They both burst into laughter.

Draco lounged in his seat at the slytherin table, feeling quite at home in his usual spot. He dug into his salmon dinner, concentrating solely on the food due to his hunger. Ginny sat at his side, poking at her romaine lettuce. Harry paused in consuming his own salmon, looking around to see if he could recognize anyone. He waved to Hermione and Ron when they made eye contact from their respective tables. He then brought his attention back to his own table so that he could finish eating before dinner ended.

Draco and Harry glanced at Ginny's plate at the same time and turned back to their plates and heaped some of their food on hers.

"Eat," Draco demanded.

Harry tried another approach. "I know this is all strange and you're scared Gin, but we're never going to get through this if one of us is dying from hunger."

Ginny complied, if only for Harry's sake. She was usually the one who ate the most out of all of them, but the situation was so surreal that she had lost her appetite.

At the ravenclaw table, Hermione finished off her caesar salad, and lonely, decided to make her way to the slytherin table to join Draco.

Pushing back her chair, she excused herself and started heading towards the other table. The hall fell into silence at her movement, watching to see what the new girl was up to. Noticing the change, she faltered in her steps. Thankfully, she was saved by Dumbledore, who ushered her outside before anyone, except himself, recognized that she was heading towards the slytherin table.

"Prejudice in our time is very strong. If you should decide to head to the slytherin table, you will need an adequate reason. You may go to any of the other tables freely however, and so may your slytherin friends. I realize that you will need to be able to communicate with the three of your friends who have been sorted into slytherin, and fortunately, I have a wonderful idea that will prevent them from always having to leave their own table, as that may seem suspicious. As I was putting away the sorting hat, it advised me that you are the smartest girl that has been sorted thus far. Therefore, since our previous head girl resigned, I would like to honor you with the position. With a position of such importance as the one I am offering you, you will be able to move freely through the school without being hindered, and to my understanding, that will make whatever reason you are here easier to figure out and solve.

Hermione's face lit up at the possibility of spending another year as head girl.

"I accept, sir," she exclaimed.

"I'm glad to hear it. You will be spending your time here at Hogwarts in the head common room. It is located behind the picture of the great lake, which is located in the highest tower.

"I don't know how to thank you, Professor. I am so honored," Hermione said in a gracious voice.

"There is no need, Ms. Granger. It seems as though the students are filing out. Meet up with your friends and discuss whatever needs to be discussed. Tonight is the first night of term. Your schedules will appear on your bedside tables tomorrow morning," he informed her, before heading back to his classroom.

Hermione waited for her seven friends near the entrance, staring out the doors at the tree next to the great lake. It seemed like forever ago that they had shown up in this time period. She turned back to find her friends assembled together in a circle including her. She told them about the risks of moving from table to table, and then rushed to fill them in on her position as head girl.

Congratulations could be heard all around, except from Draco.

They decided to sneak out at midnight and meet up in the room of requirement for a talk about their task. Afterwards, everyone except Draco and Hermione dispersed to get acquainted with their house.

"It won't be the same without you," Hermione admitted, moving closer to him as he stood statue-like in front of her.

"After the meeting in the room of requirement tonight, find me without the others knowing," he commanded tersely moving away before she could touch him and walking away in the direction of the slytherin common room.

She knew what he meant, and she knew that she would comply as she always did when it came to him.

NOTE: thanks for the reviews! A longer chapter…finally.


	7. Meeting

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

NOTE: The hunt for the horcruxes throughout seventh year never happened. Instead, Hogwarts remained open, and Harry searched for the horcruxes with the help of Dumbledore as they did throughout the sixth book. They were unsuccessful in discovering all of the horcruxes.

Resigned, Hermione turned back around to face the entrance. She leaned in the doorway, allowing the cool breeze to dry the tears that she wouldn't let fall. She hated Draco's moments of aloofness.

She closed her eyes, remembering when she and Draco had discovered that they were both to be heads together throughout their seventh year. They had avoided each other at first, prejudiced as they were. However, after attempting to outdo the other in their advanced classes, they has called it a tie and decided to aid each other in remaining at the top of their graduating class. They had stayed up late nights in their shared common room reclining in their respective armchairs in front of the fire. Their homework had lay sprawled on the table between their chairs. Most nights, they had simply let their homework go until the early morning and talked to each other, knowing that nothing said between them would leave the room that they shared. Other nights, they had found themselves cramming together for Arithmancy or the like. She recalled the cups of hot chocolate that they had sneaked up from the kitchens, and the times when they drank so many cups of the stuff that they fell asleep in front of the fire together, curled up in their separate armchairs, too full and tired to walk up the stairs to their individual bedrooms. The others knew that Hermione and Draco had developed an understanding of each other, but the word friendship was far from anything that anyone who knew the two would use to describe them; rivals was more like it.

Hermione sighed, turning back around. They had never gotten a chance to graduate; Hogwarts had been attacked.

She made her way to the nearest staircase, noticing that the vicinity was empty. Intent on not being caught past hours on her first night, she began to climb the stairs to the highest floor. Upon reaching the landing, she noticed that the hallway was deserted, as was expected when she realized she was the last to remain after the meal.

She found that she did not need the dim light provided by the torches set every so many feet on the wall. In the past year, this area of the castle had become more familiar to her then her own house. She and Draco had tiptoed along its winding corridors so many times past curfew on their way back from prefect meetings, late classes, Professor Slughorn's parties, and of course, the kitchens.

Lost in her thoughts about her and Draco's escapades, she did not notice that her feet had carried her to the aforementioned painting in the middle of the floor until she heard the sound of the surfacing mermaid in the frame.

"A new head girl, I presume," she stated knowingly.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I believe Professor Dumbledore forgot to tell me the password," she added worriedly.

"Do not panic. As the new head girl, you are allowed to choose a password for yourself," the mermaid informed her.

"Lemon drop," she spoke without thinking twice.

"Lemon drop it is," the mermaid replied, allowing the entrance to the head common room to open up and letting Hermione in. She climbed the winding staircase to the door leading to the head common room.

As soon as she stepped inside the room, deja-vu and nostalgia overcame Hermione. The room appeared exactly as it had done in her time, except for the colors. The warm reds and golds that had symbolized her house, gryffindor, had now been changed to blues and bronzes to represent ravenclaw. Greens and silvers also adorned the room, but used to seeing them on a daily basis in her time, she failed to make note of them.

The four walls of the common room, each circular considering that the common room was located in a tower, contained bookshelves upon bookshelves, the pattern interrupted only by a fireplace with a painting of Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw in the center of one wall and small star-shaped windows bordering the entire tower along the top of the tower in between the books on the topmost shelf. The room contained two cozy armchairs, one bronze with blue cushions and the other silver with green cushions, with a small circular table in between the two in front of the fireplace. Along an adjoining wall, there was a table with two chairs, for conferences and late night or early morning snacks. The wall next to this contained two small and separate alcoves that seemed to extend into the bookshelf containing a desk and chair each, along with study materials. The fourth and final wall contained the entrance. In the middle of the room, there were couches and cozy chairs surrounding a table in the middle.

On the two corners of the room opposing the entrance, there were two doors leading up to the two dormitories. The dormitory for the head girl was located on the right and Hermione pulled the door open and headed up to the half circular room (the other half of the circle was the head boy's room). Along the straight wall of this room, there was a large canopy bed in the center and bookshelves on either side. The space in the center above the bed contained empty shelves for belongings. Along the circular wall of the room, there was a vanity with an oval shaped mirror in the middle and two bureaus for clothes on either side. The traditional bookshelves filled the empty spaces along this wall also. As with the common room, there were miniature star-shaped windows in the space between the books on the uppermost shelf.

At the foot of her bed, Hermione found a magical trunk that would provide her with appropriate clothing each day. She opened up the trunk and found a ravenclaw robe with a head girl badge. Upon putting the articles of clothing on, she made her way down to the common room, intent on finding _Hogwarts, a History_ on the bookshelf and curling up on one of the couches until she had to go and meet the others.

Since it had grown dark outside, she found the common room bathed in golden light emanating from the bookshelves. Finding her favorite book, she curled up in her armchair. She flipped through the pages in an attempt to find information on the death eaters so that she would be bettered prepared for her task. However, she was suddenly hit by the reality that the book was an older version than the one she was used to, and she would have to succeed without the help of the facts within. Of course, she had practically memorized the future book after so many readings and now was the time that the unconscious effort would prove useful.

She decided to read through the version she had in her hand to find any discrepancies with the one she was used to and was so engrossed in her reading that she did not hear the door squeak open.

A boy her age stepped inside the room and, sensing another's presence, located her form. He quietly made his way over to his own armchair, next to hers, and sat down. He decided to wait for her to acknowledge his presence and busied himself with his defense against the dark arts essay. However, he found himself unable to concentrate on the assignment for his favorite class, his mind instead wandering to the girl and wondering who she was.

"Seems as though Dippet found another head girl," he thought to himself, relishing the fact that he had scared the previous one away. The boy put quill to parchment, making scratching noises to alert the girl.

Startled by the noise, Hermione looked to her side and found herself face to face with Tom Riddle with only a small table separating the two. Her mind seemed to freeze, and she continued to stare at him unabashedly. Somewhere in the back of her head, a voice was telling her to get up and get out of the room as fast as possible. However, in shock, she stayed rooted in her seat, gawking at him.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her and turned back to his work, actually concentrating this time. The girl was obviously ill-bred. She hadn't even made an attempt to introduce herself but was instead eyeing him as if she was in shock.

"So much for manners," Tom thought to himself, paying no heed to the fact that he had also failed to acquaint himself with her properly.

Hermione finally averted her eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths. He was why they were all here. She had to tread carefully, making sure not to get on his bad side. At the same time, she found herself thinking about how he had murdered so many of the people she held dear, her parents and her classmates alike. In a moment of rashness, she found herself standing up to her full height and throwing her book at Tom's head. Before it could hit him, his hand came up and snatched it from the air in a reflex-like movement. Slowly, he turned to face her and stood, walking towards her with a murderous gleam in his eyes. He stopped short of stepping on her feet, so close that Hermione found she could not look up at him in defiance without her chin hitting his shirt. She stared straight ahead, unwilling to look down in complacency.

"The next time you decide to impetuously aim an object at an innocent victim's head, make sure that you can outsmart them," Tom spoke with loathing dripping from his every word.

"Oh, and try and remember that you'll NEVER outsmart me," he stated as an afterthought before making his way up to his dormitory, potions essay in hand.

As soon as he stepped aside, Hermione bounded out the entrance straight ahead of her, not stopping to look back at his smug expression.

She hurried out the door and, realizing that it would be some time before the group met up in the room of requirement, made her way to an all too familiar area of the castle for her, none other than the library. Letting herself in, she skimmed the place for empty seats and took up her usual place at a hidden table surrounded on all sides by a circular shelf which could be opened by turning to page 9 of an ancient defense against the dark arts textbook located on one of the outer shelves near the top. She had stumbled upon the area by mistake one night when she had been studying spells before the war. In her time, she was the only student who knew of the secret area and that fact had offered her comfort when she had wanted to stay up late studying without interruption. The shelves on the inside were magical in that they provided the person who entered with just the books that he or she required. Skimming one of the shelves, Hermione found a book on 1940s etiquette. Who knew that it was rude to walk faster than someone alongside you in the halls? How was she supposed to manage that when she was always in a hurry to get to her next class? In this fashion, Hermione passed her time before she found that she had to get to the room of requirement.

She found the others waiting for her in the hall that held the room of requirements, scattered and occupied, sharing homework or staring out of one of the windows, so as to seem less suspicious. When they saw her, they immediately made their way over.

"Who wants to imagine the room this time?" Harry asked, politely allowing someone else to do the honors instead of asserting himself.

"I do," Luna spoke, but she was silenced by a shower of "no's" from every direction.

"Last we allowed you to do the imagining, you came up with the Jurassic era and their were dinosaurs that resembled _spiders _in the clearing you thought up," Ron said, shuddering.

"How about you Parvati," Ginny spoke, "you've never gotten a chance yet."

"Sure, why not," Parvati spoke, taking her up on the offer.

She began walking past the room, imagining it in her mind. Little did the group know that her idea of headquarters was about as bad as Luna's, though less dangerous.

A door materialized after she had paced for a few seconds, and Parvati opened it up and was the first to step inside, gasping in delight as she saw what she had wanted.

The others followed behind her, trying to figure out what she had thought of.

The room resembled Professor Trelawney's classroom from the future.

"Oh, I can't even describe how much I miss it," Parvati spoke, sighing wistfully in remembrance.

They piled some pillows up in the center of the room and lounged while Parvati lit some incense before joining them.

Ron began to cough, turning red at the heavy rose smell.

"Put it out," he complained, eyes bloodshot and watery.

"Fine," Parvati huffed, putting out the incense and taking a seat far from Ron.

"Alright, enough with the childish antics," Hermione complained.

"She's right," Harry supported, "we need to agree on how far we've come and how far we have yet to go."

"So far," Hermione began in an authoritative tone, "we know what Dumbledore told us, that the only weapon we possess that has the ability to ruin Voldemort is love."

At this point, she was interrupted by Draco, who scoffed in irritation. "Granger, teaching my kind how to love is fruitless," he stated knowingly, as if he half expected Hermione to have known better.

"_You're kind_?" Harry questioned incredulously.

"I knew it," Ron followed up. "Malfoy's always had a death eater aura about him. I always knew he was part of Voldemort's ranks"

Draco rolled his eyes, not bothering to correct Ron in his assumptions.

"Let him explain," Luna stated calmly.

"From personal experience," he started before being interrupted by Ron's voice muttering "personal experience, he confirms."

"Gained from living with my father," Malfoy continued in a sharp tone, "I know that death eaters do not know the meaning of love, and it will be a waste of time on our part to attempt to teach them a concept they obviously have an immunity to."

"Do_ you _have an immunity to love," Harry questioned with knowing eyes, staring between him and Hermione, who quickly steered the conversation back to the original topic with, "I was simply stating what Dumbledore previously informed us of so that we have all the facts before coming up with a logical course of action. I was not implying a course of action at all," she defended.

"Well, Granger, _I _was merely ruling out an idea that would never work," Draco stated arrogantly.

"Don't take that tone with me," Hermione stated huffily.

Draco crossed his arms and turned away from her and found himself face to face with Neville.

"So Longbottom, any ideas?" Draco asked listlessly, giving off a semblance of kindness when in fact he was contemplating whether Hermione had noticed that he had done so only on her behalf.

Bewildered at being addressed, Neville tore his eyes away from Ginny and hastily replied in the negative.

"Does anyone have any ideas?" Ron asked in exasperation.

"What do we know about him?" Harry asked, 'Let's put everything that we know together before deciding what to do and how to do it."

"He manipulates innocent girls into doing what he asks without them knowing and then lures them to their death," Ginny offered, shivering at the remembrance of her encounter with Tom Riddle's memory during her first year.

"I'm going to kill him myself before we leave if he survives what we've got in store for him," Ron promised.

Ginny gave a small smile in her brother's direction and buried her head in the pillows, trying to escape the thought of Riddle.

"Dumbledore said he was handsome, but I haven't gotten the chance to judge for myself," Parvati said in contemplation.

"I've seen him up close, and trust me, his rude demeanor will turn you off permanently before you even get the chance to consider his looks," Hermione informed knowingly.

Silence followed her allegation for a few moments, and then, "What do you mean 'up close,'" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes in her direction, a possessive gleam in his orbs that only Hermione noticed.

Hermione recoiled from the look in his eyes, wrapping her arms around herself and turning away from his probing stare.

"He's head boy," she mumbled quietly and quickly.

"EXCUSE ME?" Draco bellowed incredulously.

"I should have known," Harry reflected, "Dumbledore mentioned that he was the smartest in his year."

"Not for long," Neville predicted, "not with Hermione around."

Hermione gave him an appreciative glance, and the group chuckled at the thought of Riddle's expression when he found himself outdone by someone.

"Back to the task at hand," Harry focused, "Dumbledore also mentioned that he had gathered evidence that Riddle's greatest fear is death. He is out to obtain immortality. Also, he has murdered Moaning Myrtle already and successfully blamed the release of the basilisk on Hagrid."

"At seventeen nonetheless," Ron murmured in a shocked voice.

"Just for the record, he has murdered his father to date as well," Harry stated grimly.

'What else do we know," Hermione questioned.

"He can see threstrals," Luna stated matter of factly.

"I saw them about a week ago when I was searching for herbs to restock the supply in the greenhouse," Neville put forth.

"Herbs are quite essential to facials," Parvati added.

"Riddle doesn't need a facial," Hermione replied, "His skin is immaculate."

"Exactly how close were you to Riddle that you were able to make this astute observation." Draco asked threateningly.

Before Hermione had a chance to defend herself, Ginny came to her aid with, "Even I noticed his perfect skin during the chaos in the chamber."

"You were paying attention to his FACE at a time like that?" Ron asked uncomprehendingly.

"Well, yes, Ronald, I believe I was paying attention to his face instead of other parts of him. Just because you can't handle yourself around the opposite sex does not mean that I cannot," Ginny stated snobbishly.

Ron began to mimic her in a high pitched voice, but this theatrics went unnoticed as Harry ignored him and notified the others that Riddle had also began to gather his death eaters.

"We don't have enough information to decide on a course of action just yet. We know that he is already on the road to becoming his future self. Our task would have been easier if we had gone back to an earlier time before he had decided to turn to the dark side," Harry decided.

"He didn't turn to the dark side, Potter," Draco corrected, "He invented it."

"Is that pride I hear," Ron questioned, putting his hand to his ear and squinting at Malfoy in his usual suspecting manner.

"Fact, Weasley," Draco amended, "though how someone as poor as you could know of pride I can't comprehend."

"There's a lot of things in the world that even the best of us can't comprehend," Luna sympathized.

Neville made a rare comment with, "Riddle's logic being one of them."

"Twisted though his logic is, maybe we can get to the core of his reasoning if we study him and methodically sort through what we discover," Hermione reasoned.

"A plan in true Hermione fashion if there ever was one," Parvati concluded.

"If everything's settled, we better head back to our respective dormitories before we're missed," Hermione warned.

The group began to get up and depart in their separate directions, but not before Draco found the opportunity to whisper, "Eager to be back in close range with Riddle?" in a harsh voice.

Hermione walked in the general direction of the head dorms at first, but after failing to climb any of the passing staircases, she found herself walking out the entrance of the school into the cool autumn night. Lost in her thoughts, she walked to the gnarled willow under which they had apparated from during their own time. She found comfort as she stared out at the familiar navy blue water of the Great Lake. She was so preoccupied in analyzing her previous interaction with Riddle that she failed to hear Draco approach.

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around from behind, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her familiar smell of eucalyptus leaves. When he had asked about the scent, she had informed him that the scent of the leaves was known to lessen stress. He had smiled at that, knowing of her tendency to overachieve in all aspects of her life and understanding the stress she experienced, feeling it himself at the time. As he held her, the only things he felt were anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. He pulled her closer violently, and she gasped at the pains as he pressed he hands into her waist.

She knew it was Draco. She could always sense his presence at her back from the nights when he had allowed her to sleep in his bed during their seventh year. This allowed her to wake up to someone nearby when she had nightmares about the upcoming war. Deep down, Draco had known that he allowed her into his room for his own benefit as much as her own. The way he was holding her now was the same way he would hold her when he awoke from nightmares of his own, though he never shared them with Hermione.

She twisted in his grasp, turning to face his chest and burying her face in the folds of his oxford shirt. His height hindered her from wrapping her arms around his shoulders so she rested her arms on his own instead. As she turned her head to the side to face the school, wary of the others finding them, he could sense her blinking away tears. He tensed at the thought of her crying for reasons that she had failed to confide in him.

At the realization that he had stiffened at his thoughts, Draco relaxed and loosened his grip on her waist, bringing his arms to his sides, no longer pulling her ever closer. If she didn't want him around, that was fine with him.

Hermione was used to his aloof behavior during her moments of weakness, but when he moved away and turned back to the school, she was so taken by surprise that her tears began falling. Without thinking twice of the consequences, she ran after him and grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her.

His facial features gave nothing away of his inner turmoil, but she gasped as she saw clearly the anger in his eyes. Before she could attempt to placate him or move away, he grabbed her harshly and crushed her against him, ignoring the pain etched in her face and the fresh tears his actions evoked.

"You will not gallivant with the likes of Tom Riddle if I have anything to do with it," he stated cruelly.

She nodded, more out of fear then promise.

He let go and began to walk away once more, but turned back on second thought and put an arm around her to keep her from falling and backhanded her, thinking clearly enough to stop himself from hitting her as hard as he was capable.

"I will take whatever tone I want with you, Granger," he stated insensitively, placing his forehead against her own and staring into her eyes piercingly.

She closed her eyes and her breath came in quick gasps. She struggled to stay standing, reaching out blindly to grab fistfuls of his shirt.

He moved the arm around her waist to her shoulders and picked her up, supporting her with another arm under her knees. She rested her head against him, feeling his heart beat quicker than usual. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, and began walking towards the head dormitory. He looked straight ahead, careful not to look down at her tear-streaked face. A Malfoy never apologized, and he wasn't about to break the age-old tradition, no matter the girl or the circumstances.

A/N- longer wait than usual, longer update than usual. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, and especially your ideas for the upcoming chapter. Tom/Draco conflict in the head dormitories next chapter. Update would be quicker if ideas as to how Tom will react to Draco invading the head dormitory to put Hermione to bed and how Draco will react to the sight of Tom were put forth. Let me know what you want to read, and as always, thanks for reading!


	8. Hot Chocolate

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

NOTE: Thank you to all my adoring reviewers. I don't know where I would be without you all. WORLD PEACE! just give me the tiara. Gods!

"Put me down," Hermione whispered, her voice muffled against Draco's chest.

He was able to make out her words faintly, but ignored them as he did the regret plaguing his thoughts. Instead, he concentrated on his steps up the staircase, pulling Hermione closer as the stairs began to move.

She began to struggle against his hold as his arms tightened around her.

"Stop," he commanded tersely.

"No," she replied, her voice breaking, "where are you taking me?"

"We're going to the head dorms," he informed her.

She began to shake her head vehemently. "_I_ am not going to the head dorms," she replied stubbornly.

"Where do you insist I take you Granger," Draco asked, irritated by her childish behavior.

"Nowhere," she stated firmly, "you can put me down right here."

"So you can wander the halls after hours in a time period your not familiar with?" he questioned, his voice sarcastic, but his eyes betraying his concern.

"The location of the library has not changed, though the time has," came her simple reply.

"What exactly do you plan on doing in the library at this hour?" he inquired.

She shrugged, twisting one of her curls around her finger in a nervous gesture he could've recognized anywhere.

He sighed and loosened his grip, standing her up against the picture of the Great Lake that he had arrived at, placing his arms on either side of her, blocking her from escape. Despite this, she still made to move out from under one of his arms. He caught her around the waist and pushed himself against her, her back flat against the wall. She turned her head to the side, not willing to let him have total control.

"Look at me," he demanded.

She shook her head.

"Fine," he relented, "atleast tell me the password."

Coming to her senses, she gave him a hard shove, but was unable to move him. Aggravated, she turned to him and answered harshly, "Why would _I_ give you the password? For your information, Malfoy, I can manage to get to bed by myself if you would remove yourself from my person."

"My pleasure, Granger," he relented, and brought his hands to his sides and took a step away.

She eyed him incredulously. "Aren't you leaving," she asked with uncertainty.

"After you go inside," he assured calmly, crossing his arms to show her he was serious and not willing to budge.

She made a sound of frustration and turned to face the painting, muttering the password.

"What was that, Granger," Draco asked, intentionally irritating her, knowing that she knew perfectly well that he had heard.

The painting swung open, and Hermione walked forward, ignoring him purposely. For all she cared, he could do his arithmancy homework by himself from now on forward.

He turned away from her, shaking his head with a small smile, and made his way to the kitchens for some hot chocolate.

Once she was sure that the painting had closed behind her, she paused in the entrance, closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. After her previous encounter with Riddle, she was unsure about how their next run in would fare. She tasted a lemon drop on her tongue and was reassured.

She made her way to the fireplace and collapsed into the nearest armchair, falling asleep in the warmth of the flames, her elbow on an armrest and her palm supported her stinging cheek.

Twenty minutes later, she felt hands shaking her roughly and figured it was morning.

"The assignment's in my bag. You can have a peek. Stop panicking. If you hadn't gone to the party last night, you wouldn't be in this position," she murmured instinctively, used to Draco's nonchalance the night before an assignment was due and haste and stress in the morning.

"Get off my chair," a male voice ordered.

She could sense impatience in the voice and it triggered her own ire.

"You shouldn't have let me fall asleep in your arms and left me in your chair overnight. You know the way to my bed. This is your own fault," she grumbled away. "You deserve to fail this assignment," she continued, yawning. "Professor Snape won't punish his own godson anyway," she finished off, snuggling into the chair.

Tom Riddle snatched the elbow that she was resting on the armrest and yanked her up, flinging her aside into the center of the rug in front of the fireplace. Hermione staggered but managed to remain standing. She looked around at her surroundings, feeling out of place. Finding herself face to face with a boy that she did not recognize, she inquired as to where she was.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he stated proudly, "in the head common room though I for one don't understand how you got elevated to such a position."

Upon hearing his arrogant tone, Hermione knew exactly where she was and who with. She glanced outside the window, and to her relief, she found that it was still night. Ignoring his statement, she began to make her way past him so that she could sleep off the rest of the night in her dormitory.

"_Don't_ walk away from me while I am doing the courtesy of answering your foolish inquiries," he commanded, blocking her every time she made a move to get past him. Paying no attention to his words, she focused on his fluid movements and making her way past them. Seeing that she was going to shift from side to side relentlessly, he stopped her with a hand on each shoulder, holding her still.

She twisted out of his grasp and pointed a shaking finger at him. "I _do not_ appreciate being treated like a rag doll," she managed as she moved away from him towards the entrance.

He followed, looming over her. "Then what is that bruise doing on your cheek," he questioned smartly.

The sting of Draco's slap came back with his words. She gasped, raising a palm to her check and turning away.

He advanced towards her but paused at the sound of the entrance opening. He watched as a blond-haired boy with a dark aura walked in with two mugs of hot chocolate and set them down on the table between the armchairs. Tom watched as the mysterious boy made his way to the new head girl. Curious as to who the boy was and how he knew the password to the head dorms, he decided to make himself inconspicuous. He silently walked over to his desk and pretended to pore over a textbook, whose page was actually a mirror that reflected the rooms.

Hermione stared at the floor as she heard Draco's footsteps approaching her. A part of her was angry at his previous behavior and longed for an apology she knew would never come. The rational part of her recognized the hot chocolate as a plea to make up.

Reaching Hermione, Draco took one of her hands and led her to her armchair, taking a seat in his own, or the one that was to be his own in the future. He handed her a mug, waiting or her to take a sip before he took one himself.

They each stared into the fire in front of them, lost in their individual thoughts, a comfortable silence between them. Hermione sipped at her hot chocolate, thinking about whether or not she should forgive Draco. The way that he had reacted was so different from the boy that she had known during their time. Somewhere in her brain, she knew that he was stressed from the war and the role he had played as spy. Sometimes she doubted that he spied for the good side, but she had kept that particular line of thought suppressed, wanting to believe the good in him. After his reaction tonight through, she wasn't so sure.

Hermione placed her mug back down on the table between them. Noticing her action out of the corner of his eye, Draco followed suit, pushing aside his worries about her wellbeing with Riddle at such close proximity. He stood and walked over to stand in front of her chair, holding out both of his palms.

With a small smile, Hermione placed her hands within his, and as his fingers covered hers and pulled her up, she knew that her heart had already forgiven him. He led her over to the window without saying a word. Dropping her hands, he unlatched the window and pushed it open. The window in this particular tower was the best for stargazing, but due to it being occupied by the head dorms, it could not be used for the astronomy O.W.L.s. Hermione shivered at the cool breeze, unconsciously moving closer to him as he once again positioned himself in front of her.

He placed his arms around her waist, and Hermione placed her own on his, resting her head on his chest. They began a slow waltz.

Dancing in this fashion had become routine for them during their time. With the uncertainty caused by the war, they often found themselves dancing away their stress, concentrating on their steps instead of their thoughts. They were often cooped inside of Hogwarts due to the danger outside its gates, and the open window allowed them to breathe a bit and escape, though only in theory.

Draco had been the one to introduce the idea to Hermione, and at first, she had scoffed at his proposition, claiming that she was much to busy with her schoolwork to take time out for idle hobbies like dancing. When he had finally convinced her to give it a go with him one night, he had found the reason for her previous refusals. She was inexperienced. Pretending he didn't recognize her embarrassment, he had shown her the steps, and after much practice, she had learned, as she always did.

Dancing was the one thing that didn't come to Hermione easily. It wasn't something that she could learn from reading, but something that she needed to learn from experience, and she had.

Thinking back on previous times, a small smile adorned each of their faces.

By now, they were no longer moving. They were simply, standing in each other's arms, in their original position. Draco was staring out at the night sky, and Hermione had her eyes closed against him. Eventually, her breathing became rhythmic, and Draco recognized that she had fallen asleep.

He had come back to the dorms with hot chocolate as a peace offering in the hopes that Hermione would forgive him. He knew that if he had left her to her own devices, she would have stayed up all night combing through the events of the night with a fine toothed comb. Come morning, the grudge she would hold against him wouldn't just be for his actions but also for the part he played in her losing sleep. If this resulted in her falling behind in her classes, he was certain that she would never spare him a second glance, except maybe the occasional glare. For all he knew, she might replace him with Riddle, who had replaced him as head. Well, considering the time change, Draco had replaced him, but for all Draco cared, it might as well have been the other way around.

Picking her up, Draco carried her over to his armchair, intent on sitting down with her in his arms and staring into the flames until sleep came. Then, he would leave her in the armchair, and go off to find his bed as he always did. Before he could sit, he was stopped by the sound of footsteps, and he turned, still holding Hermione.

"That one's mine," Riddle stated, pointing at the armchair that Draco had been about to plop down into, "the other belongs to her."

"A bit possessive about what's yours, aren't you?" Draco questioned, knowing fully well that he was treading on dangerous territory.

"Yes," Riddle replied menacingly.

"Well, so am I," Draco informed him, "and Hermione belongs to me," he finished in an arrogant tone.

"Does she now?" Riddle asked in a mock serious tone.

"Yes, she does," Draco bit out, turning in the direction of Hermione's dorm after deciding that it would be too risky to leave her in an armchair in the presence of Riddle and the absence of himself.

Once inside her dorm, Draco placed her on the bed and opened the trunk, finding Hermione's usual nightwear, a pink cotton nightgown which was long-sleeved, down to her ankles, and had buttons up to her neck. As always, he transfigured it into a black silk gown with thin beaded straps that fell mid-thigh and had a tight plunging v-neck. He knew that he could have easily used magic to slip her into it, but sometimes the old-fashioned way was best.

Once it was on, he placed her within the covers and kissed her forehead, blowing out the candle on his way out.

When he reappeared within the common room, he found that Riddle was still polluting the air with his half-blood breaths. He masked his surprise, controlling his facial features into appearing cool and collected.

"I would like to inform you that you are not welcome here in the head dorms," Riddle voiced.

"You will find that I am welcome wherever she is," Draco replied scathingly.

"I must say that I acknowledge your control of her," Riddle offered, "but that control will not last for long."

"Says who?" Draco challenged.

"The boy who will be residing with her," Riddle countered.

"You put one hand on her…" Draco began to threaten.

"_If_ I put one hand on her, you will let your possessive side take over to the point where you can't control yourself. When that happens, you won't be able to stop yourself from utilizing your own hand in a, how shall I put this, _violent_ manner," he stated in an all-knowing voice.

"What goes on between me and her is no business of yours," Draco spoke on his way out, "if you know what's good for you _and her_, you will keep your distance from her."

Left to his thoughts in the common room, Riddle finally sat in the armchair he had sought out an hour ago. "But how the two of you know Snape _is_ my business," Riddle thought with a smirk.

A/N- another chapter before the seventh book! Leave a review with your thoughts, ideas, questions, etc.


	9. Schedule

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

NOTE: Are there any boys reading this story? I'm starting to feel like I'm angling the story to a female audience due to the possessiveness of Draco and Tom (if that makes sense), _but_ I want this story to be read by both sexes so if you're a male, let me know what to fix or if I'm doing fine. Be nice. lol. Flames burn. As always, thank you to my reviewers. I love you all.

_Hermione found herself sitting by the Great Lake underneath the gnarled willow that she had come to call her own.__ Her heart felt torn between two people, though in the dream, she was unable to identify who they were. She felt a comforting presence__ at her back, and when she turned, she found herself staring into the depths of Draco's eyes. She knew they were his, a__nd this fact, that she recognized __them, shocked her. When had their relationship become so close? She turned back to the water, content with simply sitting with him nearby. She felt a hand reach out to hers, and thinking it was Draco's, she let it entwine her own. However, the instant that her hand was held, she could feel that the hand didn't belong to the boy she had come to know so well. This time, when she turned, she found herself face to face with Voldemort's blood red orbs. His eyes__ reminded her of the innocent blood that he spilt on a daily basis, and horrified__, she pulled her hand back, reaching for her wand with the other. Aiming her wand at the face before her, she saw not just a wand already pointing at her heart, but Tom Riddle, not Voldemort. _

Hermione came to consciousness and sat up in her bed at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream, and only when she had lost her breath, did she realize that she was the one emitting the sound. Falling back against the pillows, she took deep breaths, trying to remember the nightmare that had caused her to call out. Her actions were in vain, however, and all she received for her efforts was a headache.

Hoping to calm her racing heart and alleviate her pounding head, she pushed her covers aside once more and stepped out of bed. After using a quick spell to clean her teeth and freshen her face, she made her way down the spiraling staircase and pushed the door open to the common room, making her way to her armchair by instinct. Following her usual morning routine, she called for a house elf and requested 2 cups of coffee, one for herself and one for Draco. She peered into its face as she told it what she wanted, looking for signs of tiredness. She didn't want to become a nuisance, especially since they had to make breakfast for the other students who dined in the Great Hall every morning. Ron had convinced her that house elves enjoyed their work, but she could never be so sure of his words, especially since he was known for overworking them on a daily basis. The boy really couldn't get enough of food, no matter how much he digested.

Once the house elf had disapparated to the kitchens, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Draco usually woke before her, so if he wasn't up yet, it could only mean that she still had plenty of time before her first class.

Seconds later, she heard a pop signaling the arrival of the coffee she had ordered. She allowed the house elf to place it on the table between the armchairs, deciding to wait for Draco. He should have arrived by now, but she figured that it was probably just early and decided to rest her eyes for a bit.

In the warmth of the fire, she fell into a state that was between sleeping and waking. Although she was aware of her surroundings, she was lost in her thoughts, thinking of war tactics.

She heard someone settle into the armchair next to her own, and figuring that it was Draco, she slid one of the cups of coffee his way without looking up from the flames in the fireplace, taking her own afterwards.

"For you," she stated simply, knowing that he would appreciate the gesture but not the elaboration this early in the morning.

Hermione took a sip of coffee, and still thinking about the war, she questioned who she though was Draco, asking, "do you think we have a chance?"

She was startled from her reverie when a voice replied in a scoffing manner, "no, I do not."

She didn't recognize the voice as Draco's, and turning to its beholder, she found Tom Riddle. The past twenty-four hours came back to her in a rush of memories. Her mind quickly replayed the last few seconds of her conversation with Riddle, and she fumed as she came to the conclusion that he thought she, Hermione Granger, brains of the trio, last hope of the wizarding world during her time, was hitting on him. She had offered him coffee and asked him if they had a chance. He probably thought that she had meant if they had a chance _together_. What was she thinking? Of course he thought that, arrogant prick that he was.

"I do not date girls who rely on coffee as a peace offering to make up for their obnoxious screaming in the early hours of the morning. If you had slept at normal hours instead of staying up into the late hours of the night with your, how shall I put it, _keeper_, you wouldn't be suggesting such preposterous notions. Though you may be new here, that is no excuse to be ignorant of my status at this school. I would never sully my reputation with the likes of you," Tom spoke in a holier-than-thou tone.

"Don't you _dare_ take that tone with me," Hermione snapped, "the coffee wasn't meant for you. It was meant for Draco. I thought you were him."

He scoffed at her last five words, but she wouldn't let him interrupt, continuing where she left off with, "Also, Draco is _not_ my keeper. He is merely a friend, though you probably don't know what a _friend_ is. I am sure you have a sycophantic following considering that your ego is so large that it suggests it."

"Better a sycophantic following than a relationship so unstable that you have to ask whether the two of you "have a chance." Are you so naïve that you don't see the amount of control he harnesses over you? If he wants to be with you, he'll stop at nothing. It's not going to matter whether you want to be with him or not. It's not a question of chance, it's an assertion of authority," Riddle explained vehemently.

"Relationships are not always about power struggles, Riddle," Hermione replied wisely.

"With me, they are," came his simple reply as he got up and left, leaving his coffee untouched.

As Hermione took one last sip and placed the cup down, getting up to go back to her room to get ready, Riddle's voice floated back to her with, "One last thing: the head dorms are for _heads_, and last time I checked, your precious Draco didn't fit under that category."

Hermione contemplated his words, deciding that it would only be fair for her to acknowledge his demands for the head dorms. He _did _reside there too. However, she would make Riddle comply by some of her own rules for the sake of making him suffer. Now, she just had to figure out just what would make his life a bit horrible.

A lemon drop appeared in her mouth. "Lemon drop…Dumbledore…love," she worked out in her head. Maybe torturing Riddle on purpose wasn't the answer, _but _if it seemed accidental…"

She knew that Dumbledore would not have wanted her to be intentionally evil towards Riddle, _but_ Dumbledore was the one who kept insisting that Professor Snape was on the light side, and Hermione just knew that there was more to him than what one could gather from being a mere acquaintance. The problem was that no one was more than an acquaintance to Professor Snape.

Coming out of her reverie, Hermione got up and went up to her dorm. As she climbed the spiral steps, she considered putting pictures up on the walls. She pushed the thought to the back of her head, saving it for when she would have some free time on her hands.

Reaching her dorm, she made a beeline the trunk at the foot of her bed, on top of which she found her schedule for the year. She picked it up and glanced at it.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Schedule 1944_

_Student: __Miss Hermione_

_Year: 7_

_7:00__ a.m. – Care of magical Creatures _

_7:00__a.m. – Herbology _

_9:00__ a.m. – History of Magic_

_9:00__ a.m. – Ancient Ruins_

_10: 00 a.m. – Transfiguration_

_10:00 a.m. – Charms _

_1__:00__ p.m. – Defense against the Dark Arts_

_1:00__ p.m. – Potions _

_2:00 p.m. – __Muggle Studies_

_2:00 p.m. – __Arithmancy_

_7:00 p.m. – __Divination_

_7:00 p.m. – __Astronomy_

_All classes are advanced. _

_ Student will require time turner. _

"Where am I supposed to get the time turner?" Hermione thought, "and how did the school what classes I wanted to take?" Then, she thought the situation over, and smiled to herself as comprehension dawned. Of course Hogwarts would know her schedule. The school was magic. Her world was magic.

Her smile faltered into a frown as she realized that if the group failed, _if she failed_, her world would no longer be magic. She felt anger at Tom Riddle. She felt anger at Dumbledore for telling her that she was most crucial to plan B, to going back into the past. Plan A, the hunt for the horcruxes, had involved Harry being at the center. He had been lucky enough to be guided somewhat by Dumbledore. She, however, was left to her own devices. Though she did have the key members of Dumbeldore's Army, and of course, Draco, to turn to, she felt lost without knowledge of a clear-cut plan.

Pushing aside her tumultuous thoughts, she opened the trunk and found an outfit for the day. It was the same as the one she had on the day before, but this ensemble also included a Ravenclaw robe. Next to these articles, she found a terrycloth robe and towel with bath supplies. Grabbing the latter items, she headed to the bathroom.

She walked inside and locked her door, careful as always. She turned and found herself in the same spacious rectangular bathroom she was used to from the year she had come from. Against each of the smaller walls of the rectangular room, there were enchanted windows that showed changing scenes of the Hogwarts grounds. The windows appeared as if they were open in times of good weather, allowing the warmth of the sun or the drizzle of summer rain inside. In times of bad weather, however, they appeared shut, keeping the room warm and dry. To the right of the door she entered through, there was sink with a mirror, a toilet, a shower stall, corner shelves, and a bathtub underneath the window. On the opposite wall ran a mirror to the right (from Hermione's direction)

an identical door, whose consequences Hermione failed to take note of in her familiarity. To Hermione's left was a mirror, and on the wall opposite, the same fixtures that her side contained.

For a moment, she felt a bit nostalgic. So many conversations and happenings had occurred in this very bathroom during her time.

The reality of the situation, of the small amount of time she must have left before class, dawned on her, and making her way around her side of the bathroom, she set up her supplies, placed the towel on stool outside the shower door, and hung her robe on the hook behind the door to her dorm. Then, she began brushing her teeth manually. She was not a fan of coffee stains, and truthfully, she felt cleaner tooth brushing the muggle way instead of with spells. She made her way through the fixtures against the wall, and stepping out of the shower, she dried herself and slipped into her robe. She walked up to the mirror and made to see if the bruise from Draco the night before was till there. It wasn't. She dropped her hand from her cheek, and turned to head for the door, staring at her reflection in the tiles.

"Clad more conservatively, are we?" came the voice of Riddle, startling her.

She looked up and sent a confused look his way. "What are you talking about?" she questioned. When had she dressed other than in the most modest manner? She was Hermione Granger. She had a reputation to maintain. She knew this. Then again, she was in a different time. She contemplated this but found it unrelated to the situation at hand considering that Dumbledore himself had provided her clothing.

"I've only been here a day and night. You can't possibly have found something wrong with my clothing this early on."

He started to interrupt her, but she overrode him with, "_but_, if you have, I would like to personally inform you that I don't give a damn."

"Do you have amnesia?" he questioned incredulously, "just a few moments ago, when you decided to insult me by mistaking me for another, you were clad, how shall I put this, _most_ provocatively.

She thought back and gasped as she realized what he was talking about: the ensemble that Draco had dressed her in. It was revealing even during her own time. No one had seen her in clothing of that like except Draco, and him only because he personally conjured it up after she fell asleep and dressed her.

A blush began to appear on her cheeks. Pride told her that she should immediately leave the situation with her head held high, salvaging whatever dignity she still had left. Practicality, on the other hand, questioned how long Riddle had been in the bathroom without her knowing. She voiced the latter.

"I only witnessed you stepping up the mirror to examine whether or not the bruise your precious Draco so lovingly inflicted upon your cheek was still there," he enlightened her, "I would have left if the situation required.

"The bathroom _always_ requires privacy," she informed him, knowing the irony of the words when she thought back to her time, though the situation _was_ quite different then.

"Then lock the door next time," he snarled, adding in a calmer, though still biting, tone, "if you are quite done, I would like my _privacy_."

Hermione made an indignant noise and walked out, heading to her trunk to change. She slipped on her outfit and robe, but instead of using the ribbon provided to secure her hair in a ponytail, she used it as a headband.

Books, quills, and ink had also appeared within the trunk, along with a bag and time turner. She filled the bag with two quills, a bottle of ink, and the books she would need for her morning classes, putting the time turner around her neck. She moved her schedule to her bedside table, leaving it there since she already had it memorized.

She walked down to the common room and was relieved at finding she was alone. She exited quickly before Riddle came down and walked towards the front entrance, intent on being the first for Care of Magical Creatures.

Hermione was almost to the entrance, and through the wide open doors, she could see the Forbidden Forest. She was reminded of Grawp and his nickname for her, _Hermie_. She giggled at the thought, pausing in front of the Great Hall within which the others were dining. She was lost in thoughts of Harry, Ron, and her in the very same hall some years later at the end of the year feast. Dumbledore had been sure to award last minute points at the end of their first year, ensuring that Gryffindor would win the house cup.

She stood in the middle of the empty entrance hall, gazing at the students eating their breakfast in the Great Hall. She glanced from face to face but didn't see any of the other members of the DA. She tried to quell the feeling of forlornness that was beginning to overwhelm her. She felt nervous at the realization that she did not know any of the students, or they her. The fact that she was truly in another time period finally hit her, and before she could stop herself, she began hyperventilating: gasping for air and turning away from the Great Hall as the walls seemed to close in around her.

A pair of hands grasped her shoulders and spun her around. She closed her eyes at the sudden movement, opening them and staring at the floor as she felt the hands slide down her arms and around her waist. From his shoes, she recognized Draco and looked up, still taking small gasps for air. She placed her hands on his arms, unable to reach his shoulders.

Draco contemplated the girl clinging to him. She looked almost fearful. Before he could allow himself to sympathize with her and comfort her, he took the practical route and considered why she appeared so frightened at his appearance, pulling away from her but not enough to break their embrace.

"A moment ago you were giggling as you walked out of the head dorms, and now that I've appeared, you're acting as though the world is coming to an end," Draco stated.

"Could it be that your giggles were caused by Riddle and your pathetic display of fear by me?" he questioned in a cold tone.

Hermione bit her lip to calm herself and tuned to look out the entrance, knowing fully well that even if she became positive that she could make a safe exit out of the school and away from Draco, she would not. Though she failed to accept it, a part of her heart belonged to him, and deep down, she knew it always would. The things that had occurred during their seventh year in the future ensured it.

Draco moved his face closer to her own, whispering, "Are you afraid of me, love? Hmm?"

Hermione heard his words but continued to ignore him and think of a way out of his arms. The matter was not as simple as pushing him away; he was the stronger of the two of them.

"Answer me," he demanded.

She stiffened at his commanding tone. A part of her wanted to answer; a part of her wanted to be away from him. She racked her mind but couldn't think of what he might want to hear. The honest truth was that, at the moment, she did feel afraid that he would lash out, but at the same time, she never felt safer than when she was in his arms.

Draco repeated his previous order, his voice like steel. He felt her shaking and noticed that her eyes were all but dry. He attempted to get an answer out of her again, but this time with a simple, "Love, please. Tell me."

Her voice slightly wavering, Hermione started replying with an obedient, "I wasn't giggling at anything to do with Riddle," but then she snapped out of her submissiveness and retorted, "I am _not_ afraid of you either."

"Then why the histrionics earlier? Why the shaking now?," Draco asked, smirking.

"_Before_ you came along," she began, but then she found herself closing the space between them and resting her head on his chest, still staring out the entrance. Draco pulled her closer, tightening his grip.

"Go on," he

"I was staring at the Great Hall and looking for a familiar face, but I found that I didn't recognize anyone. It hit me that we're in another time. Draco, and if the plan goes awry, the world _will_ end. I don't know what we're supposed to do or how. I'm scared that I'll mess up," she continued.

"You won't ruin the world, love," Draco assured, "you'll do fine, as always."

"No Draco! You've got it all wrong. Saving the world is the least of my problems. I was talking about my classes this year. I know that I'm repeating them, but Harry told me that Dumbledore told him that Riddle was the smartest wizard to enter Hogwarts. After Dumbledore, of course," she added.

Draco smiled down at her. "I almost believed you, love. Seems as though my talent for sarcasm had rubbed off."

His face then turned serious. "You haven't answered my other question," he reminded her. The light-hearted mood lifted as quickly as it had descended.

"I'm afraid that you'll be upset if I say the wrong thing," she managed.

"Sorry to break whatever illusion you have in your head, but you've said the wrong thing before. Remember how you referred to me as _ferret_ during our first weeks as head?" Draco reminded.

"Yes. Do you remember how you reacted?"

His eyes turned to daggers, and he whispered in an officious tone once more, "Don't bring up the past, Granger."

"Ironic considering the situation, don't you think Malfoy?" Hermione inquired as if she was speaking of the weather.

Hermione felt his hands constricting her waist.

"Draco," she began.

"No, Granger. You listen to me. My actions are calculated, and everything directed towards you, as towards everyone else, has been deserved. I do not act without reason," he spoke, his voice menacing.

She nodded acquiescently, and though she knew her words were undeserved by him, she spoke them anyway, "Despite it all, Draco, I feel safest with you.

He let her ago and made to move away, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"How much time before class?"

He shook his head and smiled. Hermione never paid heed to time. Then again, she didn't have to. She had a time turner.

"Five minutes," he informed her, "where are you headed first?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology," she replied, "the same classes I was taking during our time."

"Two at once again, I see," he commented, "my classes are the same as during our time also: Herbology, Ancient Ruins, Charms, Potions, Arithmancy, and Astronomy."

"Some things never change," Hermione smiled, "even with time."

She gave him a quick hug, during which he stood there, stoic, and they went there separate ways.

A/N (please read this one) - Many authors reply to reviews in their chapters. Though I appreciate all reviews, I only reply to those that require me to clear up a topic or answer a question. These replies are sent by e-mail through I was wondering if my readers want me to reply within my chapters. Personally, I find that it is sort of cheating since the review replies are counted within the word count of the story. However, if that is what my readers prefer, I would not hesitate to oblige. Please let me know either way. Also, is anyone offended that I do not reply to their reviews personally? I usually just include a thanks at the beginning of my chapters (though not always…the word count I tell you!). P.S.- I do realize the irony of the situation since all the words in this A/N are being counted.

Next Time: Care of Magical Creatures (threstrals) with Tom.


	10. Threstrals

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING.

NOTE: Hermione's first set of classes are the same as Tom's and her second set of classes are with Draco. Tom and Draco are oblivious to this.

Hermione stepped out of the entrance, breathing in the familiar air of the grounds. Briskly, she made her way to where Hagrid's hut was situated, eager to see the familiar place where she had spent many afternoons with Harry and Ron.

Where the hut should have been, she found a small garden. Having had enough, she turned around, stomping her foot on the ground and facing the sky, trying to keep her frustrated tears contained.

"Of course it isn't here," she thought to herself, "I'm in the past," she found herself rationalizing. "It will be here in the future though," she comforted herself, but then a thought came to her. Would it be here? They had decided to go back in time, and Dumbledore had clearly explained to them that each of their actions, no matter how miniscule, would affect the future in ways it was impossible for them to portend.

"Hello there, I'm Firenze, the Care of magical Creatures professor," said a voice behind her. Hermione turned and fought the urge to say that, "yes, I am aware" when she saw the centaur, who looked the same as he did in the future since the creatures aged slowly. Instead, she greeted him with an automatic, "Hello, I'm Hermione." Only after she had finished introducing herself did she realize how odd the situation was.

During her time, she had not known that Firenze used to teach this particular subject. Maybe that was how he and Hagrid had met and become such close friends.

"You're the new head girl," he questioned bluntly.

"Yes, I am," she stated.

"Well, Miss Hermione, Welcome to my class. You will find that it will be dangerous at times, considering the creatures that you will have to work with, but I can assure you that I put the safety of my students first so don't be afraid if anything that you come upon during the rest of the year appears life-threatening," Firenze offered up.

"I appreciate the assurance professor," she thanked.

Firenze turned back to the students who were now coming towards the hut, some looking afraid at what they would have to face so early in the morning, others looking sleep deprived from the start of year parties that they had so obviously stayed up late to attend.

Hermione soon found herself surrounded by other seventh years. It appeared that during this time period, the classes were attended by a few students from all four houses at once. This was to her liking, of course; the more mixing between the houses, the better, especially when the future was to be so divided if Hermione and the others from the future didn't find out their task and accomplish it.

"Welcome, students," Firenze greeted, "to another year of exploring the other forms of life that inhabit this magical world along with us."

"Follow me into the forest," he instructed.

The students around Hermione began to step behind each other, no one wanting to be at the front. Finding herself leading the group along with another presence she didn't bother to identify, she held her head high and walked into the Forbidden Forest. She had been in the forest on several different occasions during her time, and she had come to not fear its secrets throughout her years and experiences.

She came to a clearing and Firenze turned, signaling the students to stop. They gathered in a half-circle around him as he gave a call. As the students tried to get a glimpse of where Firenze was standing so that they could see what would result from his call, Hermione found herself pushed into someone next to her, the presence she had felt near her as they walked into the forest.

She turned to face the person, offering up a quick apology, and found herself standing next to Riddle. She looked around in a flustered manner, wanting to move to a different location, far from him. Her attempts were in vain, for she found herself cramped with all the others students, with no where to move.

Riddle watched as she looked around, trying to be discreet about the fact that she was shocked to see him. Her surprise could be seen all over her face, though, and he stood there with a smug expression, feeling a sense of pride in knowing that he startled her so.

He bent his head so that he could whisper in her ear without the others noticing. "I hope you aren't planning on abandoning me. Though if you are, I can't say I blame you. I would be intimidated by me if I were you also."

"Intimidated?" she whispered back furiously, "and just what about you would be enough to intimidate me, Riddle?"

"Do you see the creatures in front of us?" he questioned, tactfully changing the subject so as not to cause a scene in front of his classmates. He spoke in his regular voice, no longer afraid that the others would be listening in: They were too busy talking about how Firenze must have gone nutters since they couldn't see the so-called threstrals that he claimed were there. Some of the students sighed in relief; If Firenze had taken to making creatures up, at least they would no longer have to worry about endangering their lives by attending his class.

"Why do you ask?" she asked back, taken aback at the change of topic.

"Can you see them?" he inquired again, choosing to ignore her question.

"No comment," she stated simply, trying to find Firenze in the clearing so that she could have a one on one discussion with him about the lesson.

"Not everyone has the privilege of seeing such wonderful creatures," he went on, knowing that she was trying to escape his company, but wanting to provoke her nonetheless.

He wanted to establish early on in their relationship as heads that he was the better one. Proving to her that he was the more knowledgeable since he could see the threstrals would at least convince her to stay out of his path when it came to academics.

Tom was convinced that she would accept his words and her lower status, but instead, she turned to him and began jabbing her finger into his chest, _hard_.

"_Wonderful creatures_?" she questioned, her voice dipping with venom. "Do you think me so stupid that I would fall for this act of yours…that I would accept that since you _claim_ that you can see them that you are the more intelligent of the two of us? News Flash Riddle: _Anyone_ can claim that they can see threstrals, and speaking of the creatures, I am not ignorant of them. I know just as much, if not more, about them as you do. I am aware that you can see them only if you've seen death. So tell me, Riddle, whose death did you witness?" she questioned.

She jabbed his chest again. "Huh, Riddle? Whose death? Tell me?"

He grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back, not enough to hurt, but enough to establish that he _was_ the stronger. He stepped closer to her, until he was breathing down into her face as she looked up at him defiantly.

"You can see them," he concluded. She looked as if she was about to interrupt him, but he beat her to it with, "Who did you see die?"

Tom didn't really care whose death she had witnessed. He merely wanted to shift the attention away from the death that had allowed him to see the creatures pulling the carriages at the start of term. Little did he know that Hermione already knew about how he had ruthlessly murdered his father.

"It's no business of yours, Riddle," she spoke, her voice adamant on keeping quiet on the matter.

Something about the way that she so clearly defied him by refusing to answer bothered Tom to no end. "Tell me," he demanded of her.

"I do not care to discuss the subject further. Now, if you would be so kind as to let me go, I have another class to attend," she replied tersely.

Tom looked around and saw that the others had already left the clearing. Firenze had not noticed that he had left two students behind since sometime during the course of the class, they had become isolated from everybody else.

Tom had been taught by Firenze ever since he arrived at Hogwarts during his first year, and he was well aware that the centaur let his students leave class early so that they would have ample time to walk back to the castle and to their next class.

Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he pressed on, "I will let you go as soon as you enlighten me as whose death you were fortunate enough to see."

"_Fortunate_?" She laughed a bit hysterically, "Fortunate, Riddle? Why would seeing another's death be fortunate?"

"Fortunate, because the experience gained from such a thing will open your eyes to the realities of the world," he informed her.

She stared back at him as if she was unable to digest what he was saying, as if he was stating something impossible to comprehend.

"And besides," he continued, wanting to come up with something logical so that she would stop staring at him like she was now, "you would be unable to see threstrals."

"Not everything has to be tangible in order to be understood, Riddle. You don't have to be able to see threstrals to understand them.

"Stop with the incessant side comments and answer the question at hand," he said, lowering his voice for the sake of intimidation.

_Incessant._ The word brought back memories of someone from her own time: Professor Snape, who had tried to stop Harry from falling from the sky during their first year, who had refused to give Umbridge veritaserum to question the DA, who had tried to teach Harry Occulemency before Harry had acted without thinking and invaded his memories, who had informed the Order that Sirius was in trouble when Harry had implied it despite their remaining feud from childhood. Professor Snape, who had saved them more times than he would ever admit in situations where they were in danger.

In the Forbidden Forest with Tom Riddle, Voldemort's teenage self who had forced her arm behind her back effortlessly, she felt more in danger than she had done in a long while.

"Professor…," she spoke the word as if lost and looking for something to hold onto.

"Professor Firenze is long gone. It seems as though he really can't be trusted with human students, centaur that he is. His kind have no feelings for witches and wizards," Tom spoke, loathing dripping from his voice.

Hermione came back to the situation at his words and bristled at his tone. "If he had no feelings, he would not be teaching, Riddle."

He disregarded her words once again, moving even closer to her to make his presence known. "I am giving you one last opportunity to answer the question I have asked you, and if I am not provided with an honest answer, I will take your arm," he increased his pressure on it for emphasis, "and break it."

"I do not want to answer you, Riddle" Hermione spoke honestly, her voice quivering a bit.

"Have it your way," he said, and after using his wand to cast a spell on her wrist, he promptly began twisting her wrist slowly, "Forgive me if you are late to your next class, though you may as well not attend since you won't be able to handle any hands-on activity or note-taking," he finished, smiling a cold smile as he continued twisted.

Hermione felt him pressing two fingers into the veins in her wrist, stopping the blood flow. She tried to pull away from him, but her efforts were futile.

"Stop squirming and take it," he commanded harshly, "I gave you a choice and this is what you decided on. Deal with the consequences."

"My mother and father," she spoke in a soft voice, trying to contain her tears. She _would not_ let him see her weak and vulnerable. He didn't deserve it, and she owed it to herself to walk away from this situation with dignity. So what if she had given in and told him what he wanted to know? At least she wasn't crying in front of him and letting him know that he had really gotten to her.

She spoke so softly that a normal person wouldn't have been able to hear her. But Tom Riddle wasn't normal. He had the acute senses of a snake. He let go of her arm and stepped back.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, not wanting to make a scene as she showed up to Herbology. As soon as she shut her eyelids, the tears that she had tried to hold back came pouring forth. Tom stepped forward once more, and tilting her face up to him with one hand, he wiped her tears away with the other. He took her hand and led her out of the clearing.

"I'll heal your wrist tonight. I could do it now, but I want you to learn from this," He stated as they neared the edge of the forest, "Remember: You had a choice." He squeezed her damaged wrist for emphasis, and walked away from her.

Hermione stood unmoving, rooted to the spot where he had left her. Why had she allowed him to hold her hand as he walked her out of the forest? She could have snatched it back. Pushing aside these thoughts, she focused on the task at hand, repairing her hand. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at her wrist, muttering a healing spell. To her dismay, the spell merely rebounded off her wrist, leaving it in the same mangled conditioned. She tried a second time and got the same result.

After a few more attempts, it finally hit her. Riddle had used a spell that ensured that only he could heal the damage he had caused. "Of course," she thought bitterly to herself.

Hermione walked to Herbology and found the area around the greenhouse deserted. Classes had just been dismissed and no one had made their way towards where she was standing yet. She used her time turner and found herself in the same spot.

Hands covered her eyes. "Guess who?" a voice questioned playfully.

She recognized it as Draco's and leaned back onto him. Draco knew about her schedule and always came to each class as early as possible to catch a few minutes with her.

For a moment, Hermione considered telling Draco what had happened with Riddle, but upon second thought, she decided against it. His display of jealousy this morning confirmed that Riddle was a sore topic with him, especially when Hermione was involved.

"Draco," she breathed normally again. His presence made her forget the fiasco with Tom.

He lifted his hands from her eyes and she turned, burying her head in his chest. He rested a hand around her waist and lifted another to run through her hair leisurely.

"Something wrong?" he asked, using a caring tone known only to Hermione.

Hermione pulled herself together and moved apart from him. "No, I'm fine," she smiled. "I wonder what we're going to be dealing with today," she said, referring to Herbology.

"Mandrakes," a cheerful voice said to her side, "nothing like mandrakes to wake students up in the morning." Hermione and Draco turned to their side to see a tall, slender woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She stood before them dressed in all different shades of green, carrying a soundproof box of mandrakes. She put the box down and extended her hand, "Professor Ivy," she introduced, "You must be two of the exchange students."

"Draco," Draco spoke as he shook her hand, and Hermione went next, wincing slightly at Professor Ivy's firm handshake. Luckily, Draco had not noticed because he was looking at the approaching students to see if anyone they knew would be in the same class.

"Well, I better head inside and set everything up," Professor Ivy said, picking up the box and turning towards the greenhouse, "see you two during class."

"She seems nice," Hermione stated, "I'm sure she would be willing to teach me more in-depth outside of class…"

She was interrupted by Draco, who had only one word to say, "Longbottom."

"Neville?" Hermione asked, as Draco pointed to where he was walking towards them, waving enthusiastically. Hermione waved back just as earnestly, while Draco breathed out a sigh of exasperation.

Hermione slapped Draco playfully on the arm, "Oh, Draco, He's actually good at Herbology. Be nice."

"I do not take orders from you," Draco spoke, though without anger. He headed inside, leaving Hermione to converse with Neville.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you," he laughed, pulling her into a friendly hug.

"It's only been one night," she laughed, hugging him back.

"How are you doing with everything," Neville asked, his tone shifting from cordial to serious.

"Fine, Neville," she answered with a smile, trying to convince herself that despite everything she _was_ fine.

"As always," he smiled back, and they headed to class.

A/N- Please leave your thoughts and ideas in a review, and as always, to my reviewers from the previous chapter, thank you!


	11. Questions

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

The screeching cries of mandrakes filled Hermione's ears, distressed and desperate. She blinked her wet eyes and attempted to focus on the task at hand. The cries were so much like the ones that she had heard as she ran out of the castle with Draco during the final battle.

The reality of the situation hit her and all she wanted to do was curl up and hide in a corner. Of course, she wouldn't succumb to such an act of weakness. She was Hermione, brains of the golden trio, and she would behave as such. She would play the part she had come back to the past to play, though she did not know exactly what that task was.

As class came to a close, Hermione pulled off her earmuffs and ran out the door, not bothering to say bye to Draco or Neville. Both figured that she was simply rushing to the library between classes, and after sizing each other up, walked away in opposite directions.

Hermione ran in the direction of the head dorms, wanting to quickly grab her books for her next two classes and go to the library to relax. She hadn't been assigned homework for her previous two classes since it was the first day, but she decided that it wouldn't hurt to read up on some of the material that the classes were to cover this year. She had already taken the classes in the future but felt that the books would calm her down. Going though the familiar material would reassure her that she had a life outside of the past that she was stuck in.

Bursting through the entrance of the head dorms, she ran straight into a warm body. Assuming it was Draco demanding an explanation about her quick disappearance about Herbology, she attempted to push the body to the left so she could walk past. However, the body wasn't budging, and she found herself squeezing to the right of it as always.

"I'm sorry for running out of class, but the screeching was bringing back horrible memories, and I need to get to the library and get my hands on a book before I do something rash," she voiced without pause as she ran to the door of her dormitory.

Back in her room, she threw open her trunk, deposited the books from her last two classes, and grabbed the two books for her upcoming ones. She raced back down the spiraling staircase and exited her dormitory, only to find Tom Riddle standing a few feet in front of her with his arms crosses over his chest. Hermione leaned back against the door she had just come out of and looked up at the face of the boy before her, hoping to get a sense of what he was thinking and why he was there. As she had expected, however, his face held no hint of what was going on in his head. He looked down at her and fed up with everything to do with him, Hermione tried to walk past him in the direction of the exit.

For every step she took, Riddle took one that matched it. "Well, since he's obviously not going to let me past, I might as well make use of the situation and get him to repair my wrist," she thought to herself.

Hermione held out her wrist to him, looking straight ahead at his chest, not down to acknowledge his dominance, but not up to convey a challenge.

"Tonight," he answered in acknowledgement, "but only if you answer the questions I have for you at the moment."

"I don't have time for this, Riddle. I have places to be," she replied irritably.

"Clarify the places," he demanded.

"Professor Dumbledore's classroom for a private meeting," she replied, lying in the hopes of intimidating him.

"That's rich," he smirked, "especially since he is teaching a class at the moment."

Hermione found that she had nothing to say to refute his words. "What else would you like me to answer," she asked, not bothering to hide the resignation she felt.

"Why the defeated tone?" he questioned.

"I have things on my mind, Riddle, and standing here answering probing questions for you is a little too much to handle at the moment," she said, tapping her foot to convey her hurry.

"Don't let me be a hindrance then," he spoke arrogantly, "attend to the things you find more important than your wrist."

She began to protest but he talked over her in a calm, but strong voice, "but recognize this: Once you've gone against what I tell you, you're going to have to do a lot more than simply answer questions to get me to heal your wrist."

Hermione closed her mouth, opened it again to argue back, and closed it once more, realizing that her wrist depended on her cooperation. The spell he had placed on her not only signified that he was the only one who could repair her wrist, but also that she would not be able to tell another of her dilemma. She remained silent, contemplating the situation, and Riddle, patient for once, allowed her to take up some of his time.

"What else would you like to know?" she finally asked.

"The class you ran out of, the source of the screeching, and the memories the sound evoked," he listed bluntly.

Hermione looked at him, shocked that she had missed his presence when she had bumped into Draco. "I have not found the time to tell Draco to meet me elsewhere," she offered up, trying to excuse his being in the head dorms.

"Find the time and let him know," Riddle answered, "but he was not the one you stumbled upon, it was me."

"Stop looking surprised at what I have just told you and at least attempt to hide your previous ignorance, it does not become you," Riddle insulted, "and answer the question at hand."

Hermione thought before she answered, preparing what she was going to say so that she would only give away the bare minimum. "Herbolgy, Mandrakes, and" she began.

"And?" he prompted.

"And the sound of newborn babies," she improvised.

"Newborn babies?" he inquired.

"Yes, newborn babies," she repeated, rolling her eyes at his inability to comprehend her answer.

"And just what about newborn babies brings back 'horrible memories'?" he asked, eyebrows raised as if he was mocking her, which he was.

"I had to assist in a birth once, "she answered vaguely, "the situation was not a pleasant one."

"I can only imagine," he allowed, disappointed that her answers were of no interest to him.

"I am going to the library," she told him.

"I will accompany you there," he informed her.

At his words, Hermione turned to face the door of her dormitory, opened it, stepped onto the dimly lit spiral staircase, and proceeded to slam the door in his face.

"I have decided to stay here instead," she informed him through gritted teeth, wondering if her voice could be heard through the door but not really caring.

"Fine, I'll stay here with you," a voice spoke from behind her.

Hermione let out a bloodcurdling scream, acting on opening the door only to find a cool hand on the doorknob.

On top of everything else that had happened throughout the morning, the situation was too much for her mental defenses, and she felt herself crumpling to the steps before she blacked out.


	12. The Feeling's Mutual

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

Hermione gradually came into consciousness. She kept her eyes closed, as if willing sleep to overcome her again. Eventually, she stretched, reveling in the feeling of supposed clarity she felt. It had all been a nightmare: the past, Tom Riddle, everything.

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking into a pair of navy blue orbs. She shot up, and as the boy moved away on reflex, she grabbed the sheets, attempting to cover herself up. It was then that she found that she was still in her uniform.

She turned her gaze back to the boy and recognition dawned on her. It hadn't been a nightmare. Tom Riddle was in her dormitory, glaring at her as always.

"What are you doing here," she whispered, finding that her throat was much to dry.

"Drink this," Riddle ordered, handing a glass of water to her.

Hermione took it from him, sniffed it to make sure it _was_ water, and satisfied, drank it all in a matter of seconds. "My question," she prodded him.

"If you must know, you attempted to be over smart, as usual, and proceeded to slam the door of your dormitory in my face in the hopes of escaping my company, which is very hard to come by might I add. In your false confidence, you failed to remember that we have a bathroom adjoining our dormitories."

Memory flooded back to her, and her mouth dropped open at what he had done. Lying back down, she curled up on her side, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes, deciding to ignore him so that he would take the hint and leave.

But this was the future dark lord that she was dealing with, and deep down, she knew he wasn't heading anywhere without finishing whatever he had came for.

"Class starts soon," he stated, staring at her as she kept her eyes shut and made no move to talk.

Tom began pacing, wondering what was wrong with her.

When the pacing got to be too much for her, Hermione threw back her covers and began pushing him towards the door. However, he was at an advantage, and she was unable to budge him. She was unwilling to admit defeat though and kept pushing, her face turning red, and finally, when she could no longer hold in her tears, she began pounding her fists on his chest.

"Leave, I hate you," she yelled determinedly, hitting him hard with her broken wrist by accident, the pain shooting up to her wrist. She gasped for air, crumpling against him.

He hoisted her back up, and grabbing both her upper arms, moved her backwards towards the bed, giving her a small push to make her sit. Then, towering over her, as she sat on the edge of her bed looking up at him, he snarled, "The feeling's mutual," and turning away from her, he walked out the door.

Note: I'm busy getting used to college life and my midterms are coming up. However, I will try to update this weekend. The updates will be short like this one, but the most important thing for me right now is to get the story up and not keep you guys waiting. Thanks for having patience. If you would rather wait longer for lengthier chapters, let me know. As always, thanks to my reviewers!


	13. Come

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

Hermione stayed sitting on the bed for a few minutes, contemplating Riddle's words. Anger surged through her as she realized that he hated her without reason.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here mourning my wrist and his apparent hatred for me, then he has another thing coming," she thought to herself, getting up resolutely and readying herself for class.

She went through her classes for the day as if going through an instinctual routine. So familiar was she with her schedule that she didn't need to think about where to go when.

During her classes with Draco, she exchanged a few words with him. However, to her contentment, she was mostly left to herself as he occupied himself getting used to the new, or more accurately, old, teachers. As for her classes with Tom, _he_ ignored_ her_.

During dinner that evening, she kept to herself, not starting any conversations with those around her or making eye contact with her friends around the dining hall. When she had finished eating, she was in such a trance that she continued to stare at her plate long after everyone else had left to their dormitories. Everyone else, except one: Riddle.

He approached her now, his footsteps silent, careful not to bring her to consciousness. When he was behind her, he reached forth his hand and holding it directly above her wrist, bought it down. He grasped her wrist in his hands, squeezing it, ignoring her tears and whispered pleas. After a few seconds, he let go and Hermione found that her wrist was no longer pained. "Come," he commanded, and she rose to follow him, the only sound in the hall her own treading footsteps as she followed behind him and the sounds of her tearful intakes of air.

As they made their way down the corridor to the head dorms, she found that the distance between them was widening.

"Wait," she begged, without thinking.

He kept walking away from her at a constant pace. Her words had done nothing to him. He did not acknowledge them in the slightest.

"Please," she added, wanting him to stop himself for her.

At this, he paused in his footsteps, but only because he had reached the portrait leading up to their dorms. Saying his version of the password so quietly that she did not hear him, he entered, not deeming it up to his standards to glance back.

That was when her earlier thoughts came back to her. She found herself questioning why she had wanted him to stop in his steps. She knew the way to the head dorms and had her own password to get inside. She only needed him to heal her wrist, and before, when he had refused to do so, she had pushed him away. However, after he had healed it for her, and none to gently either, she had followed after him, needy for his attention.

Disgusted with herself, she turned away from the entrance and began walking back in the direction she had come from.

As she neared the stairs, the staircase moved, and she was stalled. This gave Riddle just enough time to reach her, put a hand over her mouth to stifle her struggle against him, and drag her back to the head dorms.

Once inside, he cast a silencing spell, and removing his hand from her mouth, he pushed her down, knocking the wind out of her.

At his feet she lay crumpled, looking down at the floor and gasping for breath, and all he said was "I told you to come."

NOTE: let me know what you think in a review. Is this Riddle too violent?


	14. Leaving?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

For a few seconds, Hermione was shocked and stayed sprawled on the ground blinking her eyes to rid them of moisture. The, after she had made sense of the events that had just transpired, she stood up to her full height and stared defiantly back at Tom. He stared back, daring her to object to his demands, a challenge in his eyes.

Normally, Hermione would have maturely walked away from a situation of this sort, but she had been subject to so much anguish due to this one boy who would grow up to become the future dark lord, and in this moment when he had just exhibited how violent he really was, even during his Hogwarts years, Hermione wasn't thinking about consequences, only of not giving into his commands.

"You told me to come, and I, as my own person, decided to ignore you," she said, her irritation at his behavior obvious.

She began to move past him, but Riddle deftly put out his arm, encircling her in his grasp, and bringing her about to face him, the thumb of his other hand reaching up to graze her quivering lips.

He bought his lips to her ear, and pulling her close, whispered, "what, specifically, about my actions wasn't clear to you that you think I've granted you permission to leave?"

"My behavior doesn't require your consent," she spoke angrily, trying to pull away as she pronounced she was leaving.

"You _think_ you're leaving," he clarified.

"No, I _know_ that I'm leaving," she contended, gasping as the heat of his thumb left her lips and move to her throat, pressing lightly until he felt her pulse. During the time between the withdrawal and replacement of his touch, she had ceased to try to break free of his hold on her, and her heartbeat had quickened, two things that Riddle, who stared down at her with an all-knowing smirk on his face, seemed to have realized this.

"Leaving to where?" he purred, his forehead now against her own, staring at her eyes which in turn were darting about like that of a lost animal's.

"Away," she told him, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Away?" he questioned.

"Away from you," she confirmed.

At this, he let her go and stepped past her, walking away in the direction of his dormitory, leaving her staring at the exit. In the end, _he_ had walked away from _her_.

The sound of a door slamming, signaling that Tom had reached his destination, bought her out of her reverie. Not wanting to dwell on the possible implications of what had just happened between Riddle and her, she ran out the door of their common room and in the direction that he had dragged her back from, running down the steps and out the entrance.

She knew of only one place where she could go, only one place where she could be sure that he would find her when she needed him. She sprinted barefooted through the grass, towards the waters of the Great Lake, towards the shade of the willow tree nestled next to it. She would wait for him here, and like always, he would come for her.

Note: From the reviews that I received, I found that most people preferred the violent version of Tom Riddle. Frankly, I am glad of this, because I feel that this is a more realistic depiction of the boy who will grow up to be Voldemort. For those of you that prefer a gentler version, I will try to incorporate a milder version of Tom Riddle at times. Thanks to everyone that reviewed and helped me make this decision.

Next Chapter: Draco. Tell me what you guys want to read…how will he react when he finds Hermione, and will she tell him about Tom or keep everything to herself? The more you guys offer in your reviews, the quicker the update will be. The weekend _is_ coming up after all.


	15. Your Time

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

She pushed open one of the doors of the Great Hall and slipped out, forgetting to place a doorstop to keep the door from locking her out of Hogwarts.

The dark sky held numerous stars. She turned away from the full moon, looking out across the grounds as she slipped out of her shoes, leaving them near the door, and sprinted through the grass towards the Great Lake.

Reaching its brink, she teetered on the edge, looking into the lake's depths. A pair of hands slid around her waist from behind, keeping her from falling.

"Your curiosity won't aid you in finding out the secrets that the lake holds; it'll only help get you drowned in its waters," a voice whispered.

"Maybe drowning wouldn't be so bad," Hermione stated.

"Be my guest."

"You approve?"

"no, but I won't stop you."

"Why not?"

"It's not my place to decide."

"It has always been your place to decide."

"We're in a different time. I'll allow you some liberties."

"Why must you act so modern in an antiquated time and vice versa? Why can't you just act accordingly?"

"That's never been my style."

"I was never supposed to be your style either."

"I never said you were."

"Let me go."

"No. I won't let you take that final step."

"A few moments ago, you said I could decide."

"_You_ can decide to do what you like, and _I_ can decide to prevent you from doing what you like…"

"I don't want to die. I came here to prevent death, not to cause it."

The arms undid themselves from around her waist, and a hand closed around the fist she had subconsciously been making, loosening it up, and entwining fingers its fingers with hers. She felt herself being tugged towards the tree.

He fell back against the trunk, bring Hermione down with him into his lap. She nestled her check into the soft cotton of his shirt, brushing her fingers against the tree's bark. "Our names are missing," she pointed out.

"One day they'll be there, and they'll meaning something different…something more."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I don't doubt potter…"

"Oh."

"…in our time, and I don't doubt you in this time."

She smiled up at him.

"This is your time," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

"What if we could stay this way forever?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"Things wouldn't change."

"Change is sometimes bad."

"Change is sometimes good."

"We should go back inside," she stated, knowing it was past curfew even for the head girl.

"I'm going to practice Quidditch for a bit before bed," Draco replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and exposing it to the words, "Don't tell on me."

Hermione knew the words meant more than he let on. "I won't," she promised, not looking at him. Standing up, she walked away from him towards the doors.

The doors were completely shut when she reached them, and since it was after hours, she knew that they were locked too. Sighing, she decided to sit down on the steps and wait for morning; sleep rarely came to her easily anymore.

However, before she could act on her thoughts, she heard one of the doors creak open from behind her. Turning, she found herself face to face with Tom Riddle. He was dressed in black and grey plaid pj pants and a fitted black short-sleeve shirt. In an attempt to look formal, since Riddle never did casual to a full extent, he wore his black robes from the day open on top of the ensemble.

Bare-footed, he stepped back, allowing her to enter.

"Where are your shoes?" Hermione asked, startled at his rather sudden appearance and knowing nothing else to say.

"Where are yours?" he countered.

"Right here," she stated smugly, picking them up from where she had taken them off just outside the door.

Riddle moved closer to her, reaching a hand past her shoulder to close the door. He kept his arm there, allowing his other arm to join it, cornering her.

"Why did you take your shoes off?"

"I like the feeling of grass beneath my feet."

"They don't have grass where you come from?"

"I choose not to speak on the matter," she replied calmly, though her heartbeat was ever-quickening.

"Is that so?" he questioned threateningly, moving closer until she was pushed up against the door with no space between them.

"There's grass where I come from," she answered meekly.

"And you've developed a habit of running around barefooted in it after hours?"

"Yes, you can say that. And I can say that you've developed a habit of following me."

"I wasn't following you."

"Then how did you know I was outside the door?"

"How do you know I wasn't heading somewhere?"

"You don't have shoes on."

"Your not the only one who likes the feeling of grass," he smoothly replied, bring his arms back to his sides and walking away in the direction of the head dorms.

"Feel free to follow," he stated.

"Decided not to go wherever you were going?"

"Who said I was heading anywhere particular tonight?"

"You did! You just stated that…"

"I just _asked_ how you were so sure I wasn't going somewhere; I never stated a thing."

Hermione folded her arms and looked towards the ceiling, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

"Don't let your frustration keep you awake all night," Riddle mocked.

"I won't," she guaranteed, knowing that it would be fear that kept her from sleep. Catching up to him, she moved ahead of him towards the head dorms at a faster pace, not wanting to exchange anymore words.

NOTE: Tell me what you think. I'm open to ideas. Sorry for the wait, but I'm back now. As always, thanks for the reviews.


	16. Involved

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

Muttering "lemon drop" a few feet before she arrived at the portrait, she was able to enter the room without stalling in her steps. She was never one to waste to time.

Riddle followed closely behind her, watching her sit down in her armchair and angrily ignite the fireplace.

Deciding to ignore her, he began to walk towards his room. At the same time, Hermione also decided that it would be best for her to go to bed early so that she would be alert the day after.

Rising from her chair, she headed in the general direction of her room, deep in thought about how exactly love could come into play with Riddle so bent on hate.

Feeling two hands on her shoulders keeping her from advancing towards her room, she looked up at Riddle's chest, too startled to say anything.

He placed a finger beneath her chin, bringing it up until they were looking directly into each other's eyes.

"Watch where you're going lest you stray into enemy territory blindly," he cautioned.

"This is my territory just as much as it is yours," Hermione stated confidently.

"Is it? Last time I checked, you just recently arrived at Hogwarts. You know nothing about the school."

"Check again Riddle. I know this place just as much as you do."

"Do you?...and _how_, may I ask, do you know as much as you like to delude yourself into thinking you know?"

"I read _Hogwarts, A History_ of course," she replied matter of factly.

"And I presume you believe that reading about something is like living it," he replied all-knowingly with a smirk.

"What point are you trying to make Riddle? I don't have the time for your words," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"I'm simply informing you that if you believe that book knowledge is all that is required of one then you should read up on the dark arts."

She looked up at him then, straight into his eyes. "And _why_, if I may ask, would I need to educate myself on matters such as those?

"You may _not_ ask," he answered cheekily.

"I know more than you know yet," she spoke without thinking.

"Yet?"

Not knowing how to reply, she turned away and walked calmly to her room.

Riddle walked up behind her and turned her around to face him, looking at her in inquiry.

"I need sleep."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't need to answer to you."

He took hold of her wrist. "I thought we established that you did."

"_You_ established that. I had no part in it," she replied furiously, pulling her wrist out his grasp and holding it tenderly with her other hand.

Putting his hand over her fingers that held her previously wounded wrist, he spoke, "your very much a part of things now."

"If you let me be, I wouldn't be involved."

"Your mere presence in this common living area means that you are very much a part of my everyday existence."

"Why can't you just ignore me"

"Because you won't be able to ignore me"

"Don't flatter yourself," she spat, kicking him where she shouldn't and running to her room.

He knew that he could chase after her, but he choose to let her go.

NOTE: I've started typing this story in class instead of taking notes. It's probably not the best way to go but at least now I have my priorities straight… or twisted, lol.


	17. Meeting 2

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING

Convinced that Riddle would be soundly asleep, Hermione decided to sneak out without his knowledge at midnight. Using the simple spell used at the ministry of magic, she informed the others to convene outside of the room of requirement for a meeting by sending them flying paper notes.

Upon her arrival in the corridor outside of the room of requirement, she found herself alone. Of course she was early, making everyone else late.

Imagining a room in her mind, she saw the door appear just as the others joined her. Inside, they found themselves in a vast library.

"How original," Ron sarcastically stated.

"This room houses the texts required for the homework that we have been assigned thus far among other tomes," she said proudly, "I felt that it would be in our best interest if we didn't get behind on our studies, especially considering that we are behind on time."

"We might be in the past Hermione but that isn't going to make it any easier for you to change our homework habits," Harry told her with a smile, amused at how her resolve to this particular cause was constant.

"This isn't about all of you. This is about _me_."

"Then why did you take all of us into consideration?" Draco challenged.

"We can all save time if we have a meeting and save ourselves a trip to the library by taking what we need during it by using this room wisely,"

"Always two steps ahead," he smirked.

"Wouldn't dream of being any other way," she smiled.

"So why are we all here tonight?" Ginny asked in anticipation, "has anything happened with Riddle?"

"Other than the usual goading… no," she answered.

"If there are no new develops, then we have nothing to discuss," Harry pointed out.

"The _lack_ of developments," Hermione explained, "How long are we going to stay in this time period before we find out what we're supposed to be doing?"

"As long as it takes for us to figure it out of course," Luna stated elusively.

"It might be years," Neville spoke in fearful awe.

"It might be forever," Ginny whispered.

"Which is why we have to work together to figure this out. I know that Dumbledore said that the answer was me in the past, but I'm so used to it being Harry in our time. I can't do this alone. I need all of you to help. We all have to keep our eyes and ears open… in the hallway, between classes, anywhere at anytime. If we keep looking out for Riddle directly, we may never find what we're searching for. He's mysterious about himself and suspicious of us. It's best if we consider indirect references too… teachers, classmates, even old girlfriends.

"I'll take care of the old girlfriends," Parvati replied giddily.

"How are we supposed to interact with the slytherins," Ron asked?

"I'll take care of it," Draco replied.

"As if anybody is going to trust you," Ron answered back.

"We don't have any other choice," Ginny pointed out.

"He could alter the information to suit his own evil purposes," Ron countered.

"Let's not judge," Luna cautioned.

"Says the girl who's even more worthy of judgment than Malfoy," Ron blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Control yourself _Ronald_," Hermione chastised, as Ginny shoved Ron for his words against her friend.

"Despite his prejudices, I doubt Riddle has only interacted with slytherins during his years here at Hogwarts," Neville pointed out, 'Our classes, for instance, involve the combination of at least two houses."

"So what your suggesting is that we should socialize with our classmates?" Parvati inquired, obviously excited at the prospect.

"Socialize only to a certain extent," Hermione clarified, "lest we get attached to anyone."

"We have to remember that we are here on a mission so our actions should serve merely as the means to achieve our end," Harry continued.

"How slytherin of you," Draco smirked.

"The house does have its redeeming qualities," Hermione smiled, look shyly at Draco.

He pointedly looked away, getting the message across that he still felt uncomfortable about allowing the others to see how close they had become over the past year. Hermione pouted in the childish manner she was prone to adapting around him.

Sensing that Draco would continue to refuse to cease his lack of acknowledgement towards her, she reverted to her usual know-it-all self and ordered the others to complete their assignments for class before heading back to the dormitories. "It's crucial for our professors to have a good impression of us in case we ever need their help."

'We're not suppose to get others involved. It's dangerous to do so when time traveling," Harry pointed out.

"_I'm_ the one who told you that Harry," Hermione refuted.

"And now _your_ the one who's revoking it," Harry said with a hint of incredulity

"Precisely," Hermione smugly stated, "The normal rules don't apply at the moment. If they did, we would be barred from interfering with Riddle also."

"So necessary involvement is to be excused due to our rare situation," Neville deducted.

"Exactly," Hermione answered, "Now get to work. We don't have much time."

"Much time for Riddle or for our assignments,' Parvati asked?

"Both, but for now, let's concentrate on our homework," Hermione answered.

Busying themselves with their schoolwork, they lost track of time. It was like old times… or future times… Hermione aiding everyone with their assignments. It was only when their eyelids began drooping that they rushed to return to their respective dormitories before curfew.

As she made her way to the head dorms, Hermione could sense a presence behind her. She whispered a _lumos_ and turned around but spotted nothing. Ignoring her intuition, she continued in the direction she was headed, her neck going rigid when she felt a quiet breath.

She did the first thing that came to mind: she elbowed whatever was behind her and broke off in a run. She could hear footsteps close behind, not having been deterred too long by her blow.

She would have yelled, but the corridor was empty. This particular part of the castle was rarely patrolled by anyone ever since Riddle had been made head.

A pair of arms captured her in their embrace and a hand was quickly brought up to her mouth to muffle her screams. The other hand, around her waist, pulled her closer to the figure behind her.

"It's just me," a male voice spoke against her head, his face buried in her curls.

"Draco?" she clarified.

'Were you expecting anyone else," he voiced with a hint of jealousy, his voice laced with threat.

"No," she squeaked, in a manner worthy of Ginny around Harry when they first met.

"Don't be frightened," he reassured, turning her to face him, and smoothing out the curls he had messed up.

Hermione pushed his hands away from her hair. "Don't tell me not to be frightened… tell yourself not to make me so," she hissed. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you to look after me.

"I just wanted to make sure you made it back to your dormitory safely."

"Why?"

"I look after what's mine," Draco informed in a possessive tone.

"I'm not yours Draco."

"Who's are you?"

"My own"

"_My _own," Draco corrected, walking her to the entrance of the head dorms, content that she had knew better than to argue with him.

NOTE: For those of you that feel that Hermione is too weak and feel that this is out of character… well if you think about it, the whole falling in love with Riddle/Draco is even more out of character. This is my take on Harry Potter fanFICTION and I feel that she would be this way after losing her parents and living in a war-ravaged world in the future. I realize she was strong in J.K.'s book, but this isn't J.K's book… it's just her characters and setting. In addition, there are certain things from the future in relation to Draco that have yet to be revealed which made her the way that she is now. Many TRHG stories are similar in plot, and though mine does have certain things in common with other stories of this sort, I want to distinguish it too. Thanks to those that addressed this in their reviews (and to the others that reviewed as well). Maybe I will consider making her a bit stronger in the re-write (because there WILL be a re-write). Also, she will definitely have her moments where she stands up for herself; she will not be constantly weak. Ideas and reviews are always appreciated.


	18. Off to the Library?

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

"Lemon Drop," Hermione whispered, attempting to keep her voice stable and strong.

She entered the head dorms, her figure trembling, though her head was held high. Draco had aroused her fear. Though the sense of impending danger that radiated from Draco's presence often disappeared a few moments after he was gone, this time it lingered behind.

It wasn't always that way… or it hadn't been. He used to make her angry to the core of her being, and defiant, they would argue for hours. However, as their seventh year had progressed in their time, she had lost her courage to lash back. He knew this, and she had accepted that he was aware of her vulnerability. He didn't take advantage of it per se. He was simply malicious. Evil was a part of him, a part that she had accepted from the beginning.

She curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace, a habit she had adopted in her time.

When she was too weary to walk the few extra steps to her dormitory, she had often stopped pushing herself to do so and simply settled in front of the warm fire, watching the dancing flames lull her to sleep.

He would find her there in the middle of the night, almost always returning after her. Instead of carrying her to her bed, he would conjure a blanket and pillows and stay with her right there, wrapping his arms around her sleeping form. Those were the only times that she uncurled herself from the protective fetal position she usually slept in, trusting him to keep her safe.

Physically weary though she was, she couldn't sleep. Instead, she lay, with eyes watching the flames of the fire

Tonight, she was not tired as she usually was. Instead, she lay deep in thought thinking of why Dumbledore had sent her and the others back into the past. The headmaster had failed to clearly inform them of the purpose of this particular mission, something that he had never lacked time to do before.

Of course, this time had been different… nothing had gone their way. It was then that Hermione realized the extreme direness of the situation that had landed her in the past. She had to make sure that things didn't end up as they had in the future, with no choice left but to turn back. There would be no turning back this time; She had finished her homework before everyone else during their meeting earlier and had used the time to research the topic in a book that the room had provided along with the texts needed for her assignments. The book stated that once was all that was allowed by the laws of time. This time, things had to go their way… her way.

With this last thought in mind, she decided that there was no time to cozy up to the fire. Instead, she chose to head back to her dorm, where, situated in the middle of her bed on top of the covers, she sat surrounded by notes she had written to urge everyone from her time to think of how they could go about integrating themselves into Riddle's life, or into the lives of those around him. Networking was the most certain way of getting the most information about Riddle. It was only with this jointly acquired knowledge on their parts that they would be able to find out what Dumbledore had meant for them to accomplish during this time. With a whispered spell, she sent the notes flying to their recipients, content knowing that only the people meant to open up the note would be able to do so.

With that done, she curled up on her bed, sudden exhaustion allowing a deep sleep to overcome her within a few seconds.

Her defenses were down and her nightmares were frequent, so when she felt herself being lifted and placed under the covers, she thought herself to be back in the time that she had come from and assumed it was Draco, tiredly mumbling a thank you before drifting off.

The first thing she felt the next morning was sunshine on her eyelids; the second a sense of calm and then the nervousness that came with not being worried about something as she usually was. That's when her she remembered Voldemort and her eyes shot open as she sat up straight in her bed, gathering the covers around her and thinking of how she was going to help the Order put an end to him.

Looking around at her surroundings, the realization of where she was rushed at her once. She was in the past and1944 allowed her more time then she could have had in the present. Instead of feeling scared, she felt at ease once more as she had when she had first woken up. She was in the past. Voldemort was still Tom Riddle, still evil but without the horcruxes to back him up. She had time and a second chance to get everything right.

There was pressure, but not as much as there has been in the present when Voldemort was at large and his evil doings were frequent and prevalent. She had experience this time and the others did too. If anyone was at a disadvantage, it was Riddle. They were all experiencing this time period for the first time, but while Riddle was just beginning to meddle heavily into the dark arts, those from the future were already aware of what he would find.

She could destroy him. With that thought, she smiled and rushed to get ready to make it to class on time. She opted for a black silk blouse and a grey skirt that she made an inch shorter than was normal for the time. Black to intimidate Riddle and a shorter hemline to distract him. Placing a black headband in her soft curls, which she had tamed a while back with a permanent spell, she slipped into black silk flats and put on a pearl necklace and matching earrings.

With only five minutes left to get to class, she grabbed her books and ran down the stairs. She rushed towards the table with the intent of grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, only to find Riddle bent over a piece of parchment.

"Off to the library?" he questioned.

She chose to ignore him, instead attempting to find an apple within the well-stocked fruit bowl.

She was so focused on ignoring him and not being late that she didn't notice he had gotten up from his chair until he removed her hand from the bowl, holding it within his, repeating his question once more while glaring at her.

"Off to class," she corrected softly as all of the reassurance she had felt beforehand dissipated.

In the moment following her words, her fear vanished as panic overtook her and she remembered that she was going to be late. She was never late. Yanking her hand away from his grasp, she didn't bother to see if he has left finger marks on her hand, turning and running towards the door.

He was in front of the door before she could get there, locking it and crossing his arms.

"There's no class today," he informed her stoically, looking her up and down as if trying to gauge something.

"Oh," she said in realization, self-consciously attempting to pull down the hemline of her skirt."to the library then," she said, as if to herself, trying to push him aside lightly without looking at him.

Surprisingly, he moved out of the way and allowed her to pass through.

She didn't want to go to the library, instead opting to go to the room of requirement since she would be provided with necessary school supplies, snacks, the perfect lighting, and most importantly, a silence that would allow her to be alone and think for herself.


End file.
